Once More Into The Breach
by Kutenku
Summary: The sequel to RGTW, please enjoy.


J. Austin Wilde and Fission Park Press proudly present:

RANMA GOES TO WAR PART II:

ONCE MORE INTO THE BREACH

By J. Austin Wilde, K.B.C.S.

Chief of the Secret Police and Minister of Propaganda,

Fission Park more into the breach dear friends, once more;

Or close the wall up with our English dead!

In Peace nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility:

But when the blast of War blows in our ears,

Then imitate the action of the tiger;

Stiffen the sinews, conjure up the blood,

Disguise fair nature with hard-favor'd rage!

Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;

Let it pry through the portage of the head like the brass cannon,

Let the brow o'erwhelm it...

Now set the teeth and stretch the nostrils wide!

Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit to his full height!

...Cry 'God for Harry, England, and St. George!' "

-Wm. Shakespeare;

Henry the Vth, Act III, Scene 1

Chapter One

Leave never seems to last very long. Ranma brushed at his red satin

shirt, knowing that tomorrow he would be back in uniform again. At least

for a little while. When he returned to the hospital at Yokosuka, he

would be assigned to the transient personnel division there. He'd end up

doing odd jobs and such, awaiting his discharge from service. As Doctor

Mitaka had promised, he would be out by Christmas.

He had just called Hiro at the base to arrange for his ride back.

Private Hiro Ohata knew the way to the Tendo Dojo, as he had delivered

Ranma just a week ago. Hiro would be going back to the lines again soon,

and had said something about a party when Ranma returned.

Akane was out shopping with Kasumi. Even though he wouldn't be gone

long, she had insisted on making him a special dinner tonight. He held

his tongue, and resolved to at least give her the benefit of the doubt.

At least Kasumi and mom will be in the kitchen with her, he

thought to himself. He remembered the cookies she had sent him and

shuddered.

I wonder whatever happened to those things?

He shrugged to himself and walked into the living room. The news

was on, but he found himself sitting down anyway. The less he heard about

the war that still raged across the Sea of Japan, the happier he was.

Still, he knew that a part of him was still over there, with the men of

his platoon. He owed them at least this much. Many people on the home front

wanted nothing to do with this war, and would forget them at the first

opportunity.

The Indomitable Sturm Blitzen was huddled in a bunker as snow flurried

around him, and the sounds of not so distant artillery pounded the hill.

He seemed at ease despite the violent shocks that assailed him and his crew.

Ranma figured Sturm had been shelled almost as much as he had to be so calm.

"It's business as usual on the front lines today! The North Koreans

continue shelling our positions with great intensity around Seoul, as you

can probably hear. The suburbs of Seoul have already been overrun, but the

main push seems to continue along the center of the lines. American and

Allied air attacks have been hampered by severe weather. The forecasters

expect the skies to clear by the weekend, but in the meantime the North

Koreans are capitalizing on Allied inability to sortie against their

positions.

"The war continues with no clear end in sight. If the negotiations in

Brussels fall through again, military analysts predict that the war on the

Korean peninsula will drag on into the spring. This is Sturm Blitzen for CNN,

on the outskirts of Seoul."

Mister Tendo smoked a cigarette as he and Genma-panda played shogi.

Soun looked up from his game to confirm that Ranma was in fact sitting there

in front of the television and not in Korea. Genma growled something and

made a move.

"So, son, when exactly will you be discharged?" Soun asked for about the

ten-thousandth time that week.

Ranma sighed. "Sometime before Christmas, Mr. Tendo. It just depends on

how long it takes the paperwork to go through," he answered for the

ten-thousandth time.

Soun nodded. "It's just that I'll continue to worry until you're

actually free from service. I don't want to see you end up over there again.

You've done your part."

For lack of anything better to do, Ranma decided to go into the

kitchen and lend a hand. He was promptly shooed out of the kitchen by

Akane and a broom. Kasumi and Nodoka looked on hopelessly. Some things

just didn't change.

"Stay out, Ranma!" Akane cried in a loud voice. "I don't need any

help from you!"

He touched his hand gingerly to the side of his face that had

intercepted the broom and winced. Jeez, for someone who says she loves

me, she's gotta funny way of showing it.

That about summed up their relationship for the past week. He didn't

doubt for a minute the things they'd said to each other his first night

home, but as to where they were going together, who knew? They still

argued and fought; the only difference was that when they drove each

other nuts they could at least go off and sulk with the expectancy of

making up later.

He decided to take a walk until dinner was ready. He walked out into

the garden and leaped up onto the wall. He continued along the walls until

he found himself outside Ucchan's Okonomiyaki.

Maybe a little something to tide me over in case dinner's as bad as

I think it will be, he thought.

Ukyo was busy as usual, but that didn't keep her from finding the time

to chat with him. She even had an okonomiyaki ready for him -complete with

goofy face drawn in sauce.

"H-How did you know I was coming?" he stammered.

Ukyo smiled sweetly. "Woman's intuition, Ranma-honey."

He pondered that a moment before spying his father in panda form

eating voraciously in the corner.

"Uh-huh, suuuure..." he said with a grin. Got to hand it to my old

man, he's always prepared where the belly's concerned.

Ukyo followed his eyes over to the panda and laughed, "well maybe I

did have a little advanced warning."

"Pop's not as dumb as he lets on sometimes," Ranma said as he lifted

a bite of the piping hot okonomiyaki to his mouth. Things had certainly

changed for Ukyo to be tolerating Genma Saotome in her shop. It was obvious

then that his father's food wasn't being served gratis.

"So when do you have to go back?" Ukyo asked in the silence that

followed.

Ranma swallowed. "Tomorrow," he replied glumly. "I go back to the

base and work for them while I wait for my discharge."

She brushed her hand across his shoulder, rocking him slightly.

"Cheer up, silly! At least you're not going back over there."

"Yeah... Mr. Tendo's already getting me lined up to teach his morning

classes when I get out. At least I'll have something to do."

"I know what you mean," Ukyo said softly. "The shop's been okay, but

it's been my whole life since graduation. I really need to attend college

and get my business degree. So next fall I'll be attending classes."

"Really?" Ranma asked, genuinely surprised. Ukyo had been a comforting

constant in Nerima. The thought that she wouldn't always be around left him

suddenly spinning within. In spite of the whole fiancee mess; she was one

of his best friends, and the only confidant he had. Akane was only just now

qualifying for that distinction.

Ukyo read his troubled expression and gave him a playful pat on the

head.

"There, there, Ranma-honey, you knew the free lunch couldn't go on

forever."

Ranma didn't see the joke she was making and waved his hands about in

frustration. "That's not it at all!" he cried after a moment.

She gave him a soulful smile then and took his hands in hers.

"I know, Ranma. I know. I'll miss you too."

They looked into each other's eyes for a moment. It was too much for

Ukyo to bear. She pulled back away from him, slapping her hands on the

counter.

"Well cheer up, honey, 'cause I'm not gone yet!" she cried almost too

cheerfully.

He returned home in time for dinner. Akane had quite a spread before

him at the table.

It even looks edible! Ranma thought, suddenly feeling guilty for

eating at Ucchan's.

"Well? What do you think?" Akane asked him hopefully.

Ranma took another look. His keen nose tested the air. Yes, it even

smells good!

"It looks great!" He said with careful enthusiasm. "You made it all

yourself?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. Tiny wisps of smoke were plain to be

seen wafting about her head.

"Of course I did!" she shot back. "I did all this for you!"

He scratched the back of his head. "Thanks, Akane! I really appreciate

this." He sat down to eat, vowing that he would at least try everything and

thus stay her wrath.

She smiled for him then, and he remembered why she was so cute.

Just don't piss her off, he reminded himself.

The rest of the family sat down to eat. Nodoka sat next to Genma,

who was in human form again. Apparently his mother never seemed to mind

her husband's transformation, as the cold winter nights were made warmer

with a soft fuzzy panda to cuddle up with. Ranma just couldn't see his

old man as the cuddling type.

The food wasn't half bad. Oh sure, the curry was a little strong, and

the dumplings a little over cooked, but nothing like the toxic waste Akane

normally trowled out. Obviously his mother and Kasumi had been helpful

influences in the kitchen.

He was as good as his word and tried everything at least once,

remembering to heap praises upon the meal as he ate. No one else seemed

to be twitching or clutching their stomachs in pain, so he judged that

his conditioning to Army food wasn't solely responsible for his survival.

Maybe Akane's getting the hang of this cooking business.

He finished his meal and excused himself. He shouldn't have eaten

that okonomiyaki, as he was quite stuffed now. Akane was on her feet in

an instant, leaving Kasumi and Nodoka to tidy up.

He walked out into the garden for a little air.

"You're not sneaking off to be sick, are you?" Akane asked snidely

behind him.

He turned around to face her. "Of course not. I said it wasn't bad

and I meant it. I just ate too much, that's all."

"You mean you liked it?" She asked in surprise. "You really liked it?'

"Like I said, it wasn't bad, and I ate a little of everything."

"You didn't answer my question! Did you like it?!"

Ranma started to say "well it needs a little work, but..." before

Akane clobbered him.

"RANMA, YOU JERK!!!"

She threw him down to the ground with a heavy thud before landing on

him herself. They laughed as they rolled around on the grass for a few

minutes, wrestling playfully. At last Ranma let her pin his shoulders to

the ground and lay there panting.

"'Ranma you jerk?'" he gasped between breaths.

"I had to say it. It's like a tradition now," she offered with a coy

smile.

"Yowtch!" he cried as she settled over him.

Akane started. "Oh, I'm sorry! Did I do something?"

"Yeah you did. You fed me too much and then you wrestled me to the

ground and now I'm starting to cramp up."

She patted his head the way Ukyo had earlier. "Aww, poor baby."

She then rolled off to lay beside him on the grass, looking up to the

dusky sky. The air was cold and the wind biting, but they had been thus

spared any snowfall. Heavy dark clouds drifted overhead in the waning

light of day, promising to deliver December's bounty at last.

"Are you cold?" Ranma asked after a bit.

"Hmm. A little," she replied, breath steaming from her lips in a way

that suddenly stirred his heart.

"Would you like a blanket or something? I could go get one."

She snuggled close to him instead, her warm breath playing against

his ear. "You might not turn into a panda, but I think you'll keep me

warm enough."

He blushed, and she immediately felt the sudden heat of his face

against hers.

"See what I mean?" she giggled.

He wasn't sure if he should be amused.

"Um, yeah."

The sun at last fled beyond the horizon with a final gust of wind,

and with its departure came the first tiny flakes of snow. They drifted

and fell lazily from those heavy clouds, almost but not quite making it

to the ground before melting. Ranma and Akane watched them fall towards

them in hushed excitement, the way the first snow of the year always makes

people feel.

Before too long those flakes were dusting their eyelashes and tickling

their flushed faces. The two of them sat up to watch them fall about the

garden and watched in silent wonder as they made tiny ripples in the pond.

The whole neighborhood was in a hush as the snow fell on Nerima.

"In a way I'm glad you have to go back tomorrow," Akane said quietly.

"Huh?"

"I have to go back to school myself. Finals are coming up, and I've

missed a lot of classes. I need to try and catch up."

"Oh."

"And now I don't have to worry about you." She slugged him in the arm

playfully. "You're here in Japan, where you belong. Soon you'll be out of

the Defense Forces."

"Yeah, it's just a matter of time now," he replied softly.

Time passed, and they cherished each other's company. The snow

continued to fall gently, and the ground was turning white.

"Ranma, have you given any thoughts to the future?" Akane asked.

"A little," he replied. Not much at all actually.

"I was thinking that you might consider going to college with me in

the fall. I just don't want to see you sitting around the dojo and having

to put up with our dads and all."

"I don't think I'm cut out for that stuff," he said after a moment's

thought.

"You're smarter than you think, Ranma," Akane said. "And I just thought

you'd appreciate the company more than you would around here."

He squeezed her hand. "I do."

"Promise me you'll think about it, okay?"

He held up his hand. "I promise."

She laughed. "Good. I know you always keep your promises."

Private Hiro Ohata and his olive drab Humvee were waiting outside the

dojo the next morning. Ranma was once again in uniform; shined and squared

away. Hiro's eyes nearly popped from their sockets as he saw Akane.

"Hey Saotome, you said she was cute, but words do not describe!" he

cried.

Akane gave Ranma a bemused look as he turned red.

"Cute, eh?" she said with a wicked grin.

"When you want to be," he replied deadpan.

"Where do I sit?" she asked, gesturing to the oversized vehicle.

"Huh?" Hiro grunted in confusion.

"We're giving her a lift to the train station, okay?" Ranma supplied.

Hiro shrugged. "Okay with me, Saotome; you've got the stripes."

Ranma helped Akane into the Hummer. She looked more than a little out

of place in the thing; wearing a bright red coat with fur lined hood and

black skirt with matching stockings and boots. The vehicle smelled of

machine oil and the musty smell of canvas and nylon web gear.

"Hang on," Ranma advised. "Hiro's a maniac in this thing."

"No argument there," Hiro replied. He put the Hummer in gear and

stomped on the accelerator. The Tendos and Saotomes waved good-bye as

they sped off down the street.

Humvees don't fit very well through Japanese streets, and Hiro Ohata

had to drive the Hummer all over the road to get anywhere. Fortunately, the

big green monster was intimidating enough to get traffic out of his way.

"Kuno's here," Hiro said off-handedly as he whipped around a little

Honda scooter.

"Oh yeah?" Ranma chirped.

"How is he?" Akane asked.

"He just regained consciousness yesterday. Yeah, they flew him in the

other night. He's pretty frail right now; lost a lot of weight, but the

docs say the worst part is over. Everyone's pretty impressed that he's

alive at all."

"He's a tough one," Ranma admitted.

"He'll be okay?" Akane asked.

Hiro nodded. "Yeah, he just needs time to regain his strength. He'll

be back abusing Shakespeare and waxing poetic in no time."

"Joy," Ranma groused.

"You said it, man. Getting shot was the best thing that ever happened

to me over there." He took his eyes off the road at a crucial moment to make

an aside to Akane. "You see I had the hole next to his the whole time."

Akane paled, but not for the reasons Hiro thought. Ranma jerked the

wheel hard to keep them from plowing through a gaggle of pedestrians.

"Jeez, Ohata! Keep your eyes on the road!" Ranma yelled.

Hiro leaned on the horn and yelled out the window, unfazed.

"Out of my way! Beat it! Move that thing pal before I run it over!"

He looked back to Ranma and Akane. Patting the dash he cried "Gods,

I love this thing! I need to have one when I get out. All I have to do is

get through this war."

Concern clouded Akane's face. "You mean you're aren't getting

discharged?" Could this mean Ranma won't be getting out either?

Hiro gave a disinterested shrug.

"Nah, I'm going back to the lines next week. Just lucky, I guess. My

rotation orders went through before the decision to discharge medical

evacuees from Korea came down from above," he said evenly. It was obvious

that he wasn't pleased with the idea of going back. He then perked up as

he shot through a gap in traffic to a chorus of shouts and curses. "I'm

not too worried though, I mean, this war can't last much longer, right?"

They arrived at the train station. Hiro kept the Hummer running while

Ranma helped Akane with her luggage. Her train was departing soon, so they

would have to keep their good-byes short.

Akane reached up to hug him, and he returned her embrace fiercely.

"Think about what we talked about last night," she said softly.

"I will," he replied.

"Good. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," he answered. I miss you already.

She read his look and her eyes lit up even brighter.

"And don't forget that I love you!"

She placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed him. It was a little

kiss, but all the sweeter for it. He flushed red and moved to take her up

into his arms.

Hiro began sounding the horn and making catcalls.

They parted and looked around a little embarrassed. Akane put her

hand to her mouth shyly and stepped onto the train as it began to roll

slowly down the tracks. She waved to him, and he waved back. The taste of

her was still sweet on his lips.

When the train was out of sight Ranma turned back for the Humvee.

Hiro gave him a 'V' sign.

"Outstanding, Saotome! Simply outstanding! I don't care what anyone

says about me, you're the luckiest man I ever met."

At that moment Ranma was inclined to believe him.

Ranma checked himself in, handing his leave papers and his orders to

the sergeant behind the desk. The sergeant grunted something and handed

him a key to his barracks room and a stack of clean linen.

"Fall in for Assembly at 0800 tomorrow, out by the flag pole. They'll

find you a job to do. You're on liberty until then, but there's a base curfew

at 2200. Enjoy."

Ranma took his key and linen and walked out. Hiro still had the Humvee

waiting for him.

"What room do you have, Saotome?" he asked.

Ranma looked at his barracks room key. "Uh, it says here 308 C."

"What an amazing coincidence," Hiro said flatly. "Why that's the same

room I live in."

"Go figure," Ranma said with a slight grin.

"Even better; your good buddy and fellow NCO Ryoga Hibiki is in the

same quad. We are going to party tonight!"

Ranma suppressed a smile at Hiro's statement. Ryoga Hibiki is many

things, but I don't think party animal is one of them.

"Whatever you say."

They stowed all of Ranma's meager possessions and made up his bunk.

Because Ranma was a corporal, they were the only two in a room normally

used by four. Ranma now understood why Hiro had maneuvered him into this

room: so he would only have one roommate instead of three. He didn't hold

anything against it. All things considered, he would have done the same.

There was a knock at the door. A private named Kitazume came in with

a bottle of sake. His other arm was in a cast.

"Ah, Kitazume!" Hiro called. "Come and welcome our newest resident,

Corporal Saotome Ranma!"

Kitazume raised the bottle high. "An honor, Saotome!" He made a

ridiculous and quite drunken bow.

Ranma shrugged, and bowed in return.

"Drink deep, Saotome!" Kitazume pressed the bottle into Ranma's hands.

"T' our brothers sloggin' in the mud an' the snow!"

Ranma took a pull from the bottle in the hopes of getting Kitazume

off his case. He hated sake, but swallowed it without issue.

"Tha'ss the spirit!"

Ranma thought about the toast; about those brothers slogging in the

mud and the snow. They were still over there, and he was here, safe and

sound, and soon to be discharged.

"Come on, you lush!" Hiro scolded Kitazume. "Back to your room, we

need to get Saotome settled in before you go to work on him!"

The soldier made a drunken frown.

"Thass'all right, Ohata. I unnerstand."

Kitazume staggered off out of the room.

"Don't mind him," Hiro said when Kitazume was gone. "He'll be passed

out within the hour. I've never seen a guy drink so much."

"Thanks for your help," Ranma replied. "I think I'm gonna walk around

for a bit."

Hiro clapped him on the shoulder. "Miss her already, eh Saotome?"

Ranma gave him a surprised look.

Hiro smirked. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Thought so. I don't blame you."

Ranma waved once and walked out of his room and into the quad common

area. Three other rooms opened into the quad. One door was open, and some

gaijin rock and roll was playing loudly. He ventured a peek inside.

Ryoga wasn't there, and it was Ryoga that he was looking for. Instead

a man with his left leg in a cast was bobbing his head with the heavy sounds

of the music. The man waved his hand once to acknowledge Ranma, but didn't

turn around. Ranma ducked out of the room.

He walked out of the quad, leaped gracefully over the rail and

somersaulted three stories down to land on his feet. He pulled at his

stitches a little, but it felt good to cut loose. In another few days his

bullet and his shrapnel wounds would have their stitches removed. He wasn't

in top form, but he hadn't slipped as far as he thought either.

He strolled along the base, taking note of places he'd need to go.

Post Exchange, the Barber Shop, Mess Hall, Phone Center, etc. The shipyard

and naval base weren't far. He could see an aircraft carrier listing badly

to port. A North Korean Kilo submarine had been responsible for the deed.

The naval base was fenced off, and he couldn't think of any reason to go

there.

He started for the Hospital. As much as he disliked Kuno, he wanted to

see how the jerk was doing. At least to see if he had been worth the trouble

of lugging over hills and under fire for three days.

He was just in time for visiting hours. He wasn't family, but the young

nurse at the desk wasn't adverse to letting him by. He gave her a sly wink

and walked into Kuno's room.

Tatewaki Kuno had been moved from ICU to a regular room. An IV drip

stand trickled steadily into his arm. He was pale and wasted, but his eyes

still had that steely glint about them.

He was watching television; some samurai drama or other, and drifting

in and out of sleep. He didn't notice Ranma enter the room.

"Hey, Kuno, how are ya feeling?"

Kuno stirred in his bed as if some annoying insect was buzzing around

his ear.

Ranma frowned when the man drifted away again, oblivious.

"Hey, Kuno, talk to me. It's Ranma."

Kuno stirred again, eyes opening a bit wider now, and focusing on

Ranma.

"Saotome...?"

Ranma flashed him a smile. "How ya feeling?"

"Curse this medication that brings such unwanted apparitions to mine

eyes..."

Ranma frowned again. "I'm glad to see you too," he replied sourly.

Kuno tried to blink him away, to no success. "Saotome...? It is you."

"Of course it's me, stupid!"

Kuno tried to sit up in bed, an effort that was visibly painful for

him. "So I see that your sorcerous powers have delivered you from a well

deserved fate. Alas that I was not so fortunate."

"You had me and Ryoga worried for awhile, but I see you've pulled

through well enough."

Kuno made a shooing motion with his hand. "Of course, cretin. The

line of Kuno is made of sterner stuff than thou."

Ranma felt his blood pressure rising. "Well I just wanted to see how

you were doing. I've gotta go now." It was a mistake coming to visit him.

What did he expect, a warm welcome from Tatewaki Kuno?

"Hold, Saotome!" Kuno cried with surprising vigor. Ranma stopped in

his tracks.

Kuno marshaled his strength to speak. "I am told that you and Hibiki

were instrumental in delivering me from death. As much as I find it

difficult to conceive, I am compelled to seek the truth. Is this true?"

Ranma nodded slowly. "It's true, Kuno. And however you might feel

about me, I... I-I'd do it again." He looked away for a moment. Seeing

Kuno as weak and wasted as he was just didn't seem right. "I'm glad

you're all right."

Kuno thought about this for a moment.

"Then, Saotome Ranma, I owe to you and to Hibiki Ryoga my life."

Ranma was taken aback by Kuno's declaration. "Aw come on, Kuno, let's

not count favors, okay?"

"Take not my words so lightly, Saotome!" Kuno thundered. He winced

then as he pulled at his sutures, and for a moment he was the frail man

Ranma remembered lying on a makeshift gurney in Korea. "For once overcome

your poor breeding and ignoble mannerisms... Tatewaki Kuno does not make

such declarations lightly nor in jest..."

Ranma stood still. Kuno's presence was as amazing as ever, even

lying in his sick bed.

"I'm sorry, Kuno," he said solemnly.

"As you should be," Kuno said quietly. "If ever I may repay you,

then I shall... I do not make pretense to be your friend, but you were

my comrade in arms, and I shall never forget my debt to you... Good day

to you, Saotome."

Ranma offered his hand, which Kuno reluctantly took. "Good day to

you, Kuno."

Ranma made his way back to his room. He wasn't sure what he was

expecting from a meeting with Kuno, but he was pretty sure that he wasn't

expecting what he got. Hiro had a few beers cooling in a plastic bucket of

ice for him when he came in. Sitting on his bed was Ryoga Hibiki.

"Hey, Ryoga!"

Ryoga nodded once for him.

"How are your legs?"

"My legs are fine," Ryoga insisted. "I've been training every day to

build up my strength again."

"I guess you've done more than I have," Ranma said flatly. He looked

at Ryoga a little closer. There was a faint smudge on his cheek.

"Hey, what's that on your face?" he asked Ryoga. "Is that lipstick?"

Ryoga flushed crimson and stammered, "Ah... Oh, um, it's nothing

really."

Hiro threw Ranma a beer, which he set down unopened. "Looks like the

lovely Akari came by while I was away," he chuckled. "She's been doing that

as soon as she heard he was here. You missed it though, being on leave."

Ranma struck a bemused smile. "Nice going, Ryoga! And here I thought

you'd be a bachelor the rest of your life!"

Ryoga was still red, but now the veins bulged on his forehead and neck.

"Shut up, Ranma! It's none of your business!"

Ranma was glad that he could get such a rise out of his rival. He

pressed the attack.

"Gonna raise some pigs after your discharge, eh, P-chan?"

Ryoga's fuses blew.

"AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!! DIE, RANMA!!!"

Hiro waved his hands frantically. "Take it outside! Take it outside!"

Ranma sprinted out the door, laughing and taunting Ryoga with his

waggling tongue. Ryoga followed hot on his heels, and they both leaped off

the balcony. Fists and feet flew in midair as they fought and fell.

Hiro shook his head sadly. "I guess I should have seen this coming."

He started out the door after them.

Ranma and Ryoga landed several meters apart, sizing each other up.

Hiro appeared at the top of the balcony, along with a crowd of the curious.

Some of them were once part of 'A' Company, and recognized the two.

"Hey, Saotome, kick his ass!" one called.

"Hibiki, I got a thousand yen on you, so don't screw up!" another

yelled.

Ranma dropped into a fighting stance. "Aww, is widdle Ryoga

embarrassed?"

Ryoga clenched his fists. "There won't be any artillery to save you

this time, Ranma!"

The sound of air raid sirens suddenly erupted in the afternoon air.

A voice over the base's public address system announced in English and

Japanese that the alert was not a drill. All personnel were to proceed to

the nearest shelter.

Everyone looked to the skies. Moments passed.

On the other side of the bay, a Block III Patriot battery salvoed

missiles into the air. They watched as the missiles climbed higher and

higher into the sky. Their exhaust trails glowed faintly against the

overcast December sky.

Light glowed beyond the clouds for a few seconds and was gone.

Several dull booms were heard after another minute.

"Did they get 'em?" someone asked.

A flame trail spiraled down from the sky then.

"Does that answer your question?" Hiro replied.

The flame trail struck a hill side several kilometers away. A white

shockwave of compressed moist air burst out from the point of impact,

followed by a great orange and black fireball. Seconds later the windows

shook with the report of the blast.

At that point everyone decided to heed the shelter notices.

Ranma, Ryoga, Hiro, and a still drunk Kitazume huddled in the basement

beneath their barracks building with the rest of the residents. Patriots

climbed into the leaden skies; but two, then three incoming missiles hit

the base. The ground shook and dust drifted down from the rafters. Little

bits of scorched metal rained down from above as Patriots burst high over

their heads.

An hour passed before the 'all clear' was sounded. It began to snow.

Smoke and the smell of shattered masonry carried over cold still air.

Ranma looked to Ryoga. "You were saying?"

Chapter Two

They spent the rest of the day clearing away rubble and looking for

the wounded and the dead. Both categories were in abundance, as the last

missile had struck the mess hall dead on. The building looked as if all

four walls were blown out and the roof collapsed; which in effect is what

happened.

It was well past two in the morning when they were released from duty

and sent to bed. Ranma found the oblivion of sleep only through his

exhaustion. He realized that even Japan was no escape from the horrors of

this goddamned war.

Reveille came earlier than desired, in the form of yet another air

raid siren just before dawn.

Ranma found himself with the rest of his comrades in the basement

again. The early morning sky was just turning pink on the eastern horizon.

They could see distant streaks of moonlight reflected off shining metal

from high in the west. A Patriot battery close to Tokyo lit up the sky

with orange and pink light. The snow covered ground lit up with the glare.

They watched the rocket climb higher and higher, then burst like a

starshell into a thousand tiny glowing fragments that faded into

nothingness.

Distant explosions on the ground rolled like thunder some minutes

later, and still more missiles had slipped through. None came close to

the base, and after the sun had begun its climb into the sky, the 'all

clear' was sounded.

"Why are we letting the North Koreans launch these rockets at us?"

Ryoga demanded.

"We can't hit their launch sites because they're dug into those damn

mountains," Hiro supplied. "Every time we try to bomb them, they just pull

back into the mountain."

"All we can do is wait for this damn war to end," Ranma said tersely.

"That's not gonna happen any time soon," Hiro shot back, reversing

his earlier opinion.

As promised, Ranma was given a job. He and the rest of the men who

weren't disabled in some form or other were sent to finish clearing the

rubble from the destroyed mess hall. A few ambulances were standing by

in case more bodies were discovered, but the hope of finding any survivors

was too slim to mention. He spent the next few days doing much of the same.

Another missile attack sounded on the second day after, but was not

directed at them.

After all the rubble was cleared up, he was given a shovel and sent

off with Ryoga and Hiro to clear all the sidewalks of snow. He didn't mind

the busywork, and it certainly beat picking through charred rubble. He and

Hiro had a good conversation going, wandering across many topics while

politely avoiding the war. Ryoga had withdrawn into himself, as usual.

First Sergeant Yoshida of all people appeared before them at lunch.

He was in a clean and pressed uniform, though he still smelled of gunpowder.

Ranma stood up and saluted.

"Hey, Sarge, what brings you here?" he asked.

Yoshida looked him over.

"How are your wounds?"

Ranma gestured to his bandages. "These'll be gone in another day or

two."

He looked to Ryoga. "And you?"

Ryoga nodded. "I too will be fully healed in another day."

"Good," Yoshida replied. "Corporals Saotome and Hibiki, Private Ohata;

come with me. I have something very important to discuss with you."

They saluted and fell into step behind Sergeant Yoshida.

Yoshida took them to the Enlisted Club and bought a round of beers,

a fact that drew surprised looks from them. They took their beers and

found a quiet corner. The lunch crowd was starting to thin as patrons

returned to their work. Yoshida let them get well into their drinks

before speaking.

"I have a request to make of you," he said at length. He turned his

eyes to Ranma. "I understand that you and Hibiki are awaiting your

discharges, and that you Ohata, will be returning to the company."

They nodded their heads, not sure where the sergeant was going with

this.

"The situation in Korea is tenuous," he began. "The combined military

might of the UN Allies will shortly begin to tell, but the North has enough

troops and supplies for one final push. Our situation is still shaky, however;

if they were to succeed in an all-out advance, they would likely push the

UN lines all the way to Pusan. If they fail, we will be able to drive them

back across the Demilitarized Zone with little effort."

Yoshida took a drink from his beer and continued.

"You three have demonstrated exceptional courage and resourcefulness

in combat. All three of you for your bravery during our first withdrawal."

Ranma remembered that day well, though he wished he could forget it.

That was the day they had been thrown off their first hill, when Daisuke had

been blinded by an exploding RPG round, and Hiro and Gosunkugi shot.

Yoshida looked directly at Ranma. "The truth is I had written you and

Hibiki off for dead when the North threw us off hill 1127. When I learned of

your survival, I was amazed. Command is similarly impressed with you. That's

why you three were recommended for a special mission."

They looked at Yoshida in surprise.

"You were here when the missile attack came, I assume. Those weapons

were not Scuds, like they said in the news. They were older, less capable

models known as Frogs, but with an advanced twist. They had a booster stage

to give them the range necessary to hit Japan."

Ryoga's puzzlement showed better than the other two. "Excuse me,

Sergeant Yoshida, but what does that mean exactly? That they don't have

any more Scuds?"

"No. And that's the reason why I'm here in Japan telling you this.

We have every reason to believe the Junta controlling North Korea is

prepared to attempt a nuclear attack to give them leverage for the final

push. They have been leaking such rumors for several weeks now, at the

peace talks in Brussels, I'm told."

"What?!" Ranma cried.

"Nuclear attack?" Hiro repeated.

"No way!" Ryoga snarled.

"Keep your voices down!" Yoshida hissed. "This isn't something you

can go shouting, even if you think no one will believe you!"

"But what's this got to do with the missiles, those Frogs you were

talking about?" Ranma asked.

"The North is testing our air defense capabilities in order to prepare

a strike that will be effective. They are also getting us to waste our

limited number of air defense missiles on Frogs that carry much smaller

warheads than the Scud-E. If they were to launch a full Scud attack, the

worst estimates indicate that at least four nuclear bombs will get through

to their targets. The best estimates indicate at least one will. One would

be all that was necessary to utterly destroy any city in Japan."

Yoshida let them dwell on that thought before continuing. They

finished their beers quickly.

"The UN is preparing a series of raids deep into North Korea to

destroy their launch sites. Conventional bombing has proved to be useless,

and no one wants to use nuclear weapons unless the North tries it first.

Japan will be sending in its own teams along with American, South Korean,

and Australian Special Forces."

He looked at each of them in turn. Yoshida's gaze was penetrating to

one's very core.

"I'm here to ask for you to volunteer for this mission. If you say no,

then you, Saotome, and you, Hibiki will be discharged as planned. Ohata,

you will rejoin the company as planned. I know that none of you received any

Special Warfare training, but your skills, your unique fighting abilities,

and your demonstrated courage under intense fire qualified you in the Command's

eyes. I'm not allowed to tell you much more than this, and what I've told you

goes no further than here no matter what you decide."

They sat before Yoshida speechless. Ranma finally broke the silence.

"Just us?"

Yoshida shook his head. "There are others who are to fill billets in

other strike units, but I wanted you personally in the unit that I would

be joining. This is an extremely dangerous undertaking. The odds of our

survival are not good, but for the sake of Japan it must be done."

He let them chew on that for a few moments before rising.

"I'm staying in the Senior NCO barracks until the day after tomorrow.

This is the number to the front desk watch. If you decide to volunteer,

contact me through this number."

He gave each of them a scrap of paper with a phone number scribbled

on it. Then he left them in silence.

Ranma was quiet the rest of the day. Even gabby Hiro had nothing to

say. Yoshida's revelation and his request were one-two punches to the solar

plexus.

I promised Akane that I'd think about the future. Ranma thought

as he finished shoveling snow off the walkway to their barracks building.

I'm so close to putting this war behind me and starting over. I've

got my whole life ahead of me, and for the first time ever I know I'll have

someone by my side all the way. If I do what Yoshida asks, I could throw

all of that away.

He set his shovel down into the bank of dirty snow and leaned on it.

I promised Akane that I'd think about the future.

He continued to lean on the shovel, blowing his breath out in steamy

wisps. He looked across the open parade ground to the piles of charcoal and

remnants of shattered masonry that had been the mess hall. With one Scud,

it could be Tokyo as easily as that ruined building.

If I don't do this, I might not have a future. What the hell am I

going to do?

He stood up straight and looked to Hiro and Ryoga. They looked back at

him, expecting him to say something. He was silent, instead taking his

shovel back to the tool issue shack. It was time to fall in for evening

formation and be granted liberty for the night.

Hiro was due to go back to Korea the day of Yoshida's deadline.

Tomorrow he would be busy getting his affairs in order before catching a

transport flight to Pusan the day after. The guys in the building were

giving him a send-off party.

Ranma had a bottle of sake in his hand, though he didn't do much

drinking from it. Having it in his hand kept the other guys from pressing

drinks upon him. Ryoga wasn't doing much drinking either, and no one was

trying to get him to do so. He just stood in the corner by himself.

The original wet blanket, Ranma thought in regards to Ryoga. They

hadn't said much to each other since he had returned from leave. They were

almost good friends at the end of their time in Korea, especially in those

last days behind the lines, when they were wounded and struggling with a

near dead Tatewaki Kuno.

What happened to you, Ryoga? How can you possibly live with so much

anger and resentment? I know I've caused you a lot of pain and humiliation,

and I know you blame me for so much more, but I never wanted to be your

enemy...

"The only time I can be your friend is when someone else is trying to

kill us," he said aloud.

"What wuzzat?" Hiro asked with a lisp. He was more than a little drunk.

"It was nothing," Ranma replied. "Just thinkin' aloud."

Hiro looked at him cross-eyed. "Ya know talkin' to yerself izza sign

of impendig, impendig, impending mental collapse." He looked to his left.

"Right?" he asked to no one.

"Right," he answered, now facing right.

He then fell over laughing.

Ranma allowed himself a smile, but little more.

Hiro got back to his feet. "Whassa matter with you? This is supposed

to be a party! I'm goin' back to hell; if anyone's gotta right to be down,

it's me! Got it?"

He made Ranma take a pull from his bottle and clapped him on the

shoulder.

"So party already!" he pressed.

Ranma shrugged and jumped into the middle of the room with a whoop,

grabbing the big guy with the broken leg and affectation for American heavy

metal (whose name was Yamaga), and spinning around in circles. Yamaga

whooped with Ranma, and hopped around on his one good leg, causing the rest

of the crowd to cheer them on.

"Much better!" Hiro called over the din.

Despite himself, Ranma actually started having a good time. He did,

however, keep away from the booze. It was a bad habit for a martial artist

to get into.

Much later, about four in the morning, everyone had passed out or

staggered back to their rooms. Ranma sat in the middle of the wreckage half

asleep. His bottle of sake was still firm in his hand, nearly untouched.

Hiro was laying face down next to him, mumbling something. Ryoga had left

early, but no one except Ranma noticed.

Hiro mumbled something again.

Ranma leaned over to put his ear closer to Hiro's mouth. The booze

breath was harsh.

"I'm goin' wi' you, man."

"What?" Ranma asked. He was sure he missed the first part of Hiro's

sentence.

"Wha'ever you decide, I got yer back."

"What are you talking about?"

Hiro tried to sit up, decided that gravity was indeed a harsh mistress,

and settled for rolling onto his side. "If ya' go with 'shida, I'm comin'

wi' ya."

"Who says I'm going to volunteer?" Ranma snapped.

"Aw come on, I can see it in yer eyes," Hiro replied. His own eyes

were trying to stay in focus. "You don't wanna leave Akane an' go back to

fight, but you can't sit here an' wait for some Korean asshole ta droppa

noocular bomb on her, either."

Ranma didn't say anything. Hiro was more or less right on both counts.

"I'm right, ain't I?" Hiro asked.

"I don't want her to worry, that's all," Ranma said as a sort of

admission.

"So don't tell her," Hiro answered. "But if you're goin', than I'm

goin' too."

"That's crazy!" Ranma protested. "You heard the sergeant, it's

practically a suicide mission. Do you want to get killed?"

"Look, man, I'm goin' over there anyway, so I might as well go do

something that'll have some meaning to it."

He raised his hands over his head.

"If I'm gonna die over there it's not gonna be in some hole in the

side of some fuckin' hill for a bunch of Koreans who hate our guts anyway.

If I get it over there, it'll be to keep our Japan from gettin' nuked

again... Maybe to keep pretty girls like your Akane from bein' incinerated."

His hands dropped.

"That's something I could die for."

Hiro started to say something else before he passed out. Ranma spread

a blanket over him and made sure he was lying on his belly. He turned off

the lights and watched Hiro for a while, feeling the chill of winter sink

into his bones despite the space heater they had going. At least they had

the day off to recover.

I'll go... he thought darkly. Hiro's right. I can't sit here

helpless. There's just no way I'd let something like this happen without a

fight.

The hum of the space heater competed with the light snores of Hiro.

What the hell do I tell Akane? I can't tell her why I'm going, and

is she going to understand at all?

He sat there in the darkness of the room. The wind howled outside,

threatening a storm.

She doesn't need to worry about me, so she doesn't need to know.

It's probably wrong to keep this a secret, but I don't have any better

ideas.

Outside the window the snow began to fall again, and he thought about

her lying next to him in the garden; her intoxicating closeness, the warmth

of her breath against his cool skin, the way she made him feel that

everything was all right.

I promised Akane that I'd think about the future. Right now I can't

think of any future without her. And that's why I have to do this...

Chapter Three

Ranma left a message with Yoshida at the desk. He and Hiro had

volunteered to go. He had the feeling Ryoga had volunteered too.

His suspicions were proved the next day at the morning assembly.

Himself, Hiro, and Ryoga were taken aside to talk to Yoshida.

"You're all volunteering, eh?" he asked evenly. It was tough to tell

if he approved, even with his admission that he wanted him with his unit.

They nodded once and added, "Yes, sir!"

"Good. Tomorrow morning at 0630 you will meet me at the motor pool.

Bring only a change of uniform, your toilet kits and whatever small personal

effects as you can't live without. We'll be driving to Sasebo. Use today to

put your affairs in order, but remember that what you are doing is not to

be discussed with anyone. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" they answered in unison.

"Dismissed. See you in the morning."

The next morning came with a light snow fall. The sky was still very

dark as they trudged to the motor pool. Ranma stopped long enough to drop a

few letters in the mail box before catching up with Ryoga and Hiro.

Sergeant Yoshida had a Humvee waiting for them, engine running. He was

sitting in the passenger seat smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee from

an anodized black thermos. The cherry on the end of his smoke glowed

brighter as he saw them approach.

Hiro took the driver's seat on instinct. Ranma and Ryoga climbed into

the back. Two bedrolls and a camouflage pattern pancho liner were spread

out in back with a cooler full of food and a large thermos of hot water

for making tea.

"Here's the map," Yoshida announced, handing it to Hiro. "Next stop,

Sasebo Naval Base."

"We're driving non-stop, I take it?" Hiro asked.

"We'll stop long enough to take a piss or change drivers, but we

will get there by tomorrow evening," Yoshida answered.

"Couldn't we just fly?" Ryoga asked. He did not like the idea of

being called on to drive them anywhere. Not if they wanted to reach Sasebo

sometime before spring.

"Nope," Yoshida replied. "Priority on fuel goes to our planes over

in Korea."

They hadn't heard of any fuel rationing before.

"This is also much lower profile than flying," Yoshida added when he

saw that his first explanation wasn't setting with them. Even if it was

true.

They drove all day, all night, and all of the next day. The varied

countryside of Japan rolled past their windows. To Ranma, it didn't seem

at all like the country was at war. They just made the last ferry crossing

to Kyushu before night. By midnight they were at the gates of Sasebo Naval

Base. Yoshida flashed some papers to the gate guards, and they were admitted

without incident.

Yoshida went into a low drab building made of poured cement and other

similarly uninspiring architecture that all government structures world wide

employ. He returned to the Humvee after twenty minutes, while the three

soldiers brewed some tea. He handed them a key.

"There's a barracks down this road. Take the first left and go about

500 meters. We'll be here for the night. Our transportation to Korea doesn't

arrive until tomorrow morning."

Ranma was behind the wheel, and pulled out onto the snowy road. Their

barracks was quiet and well lit with yellowish sodium lights. A sailor at

the front desk pointed to their rooms on a big map of the building.

Ranma, Ryoga, and Hiro shared a room. Yoshida had the room next to

theirs. When they settled in, Yoshida suggested they get sleep while they

could. He'd be waking them up at oh dark-thirty.

"What did the sarge mean by 'transportation'?" Hiro asked when they

turned off the lights.

"This is a naval base, you figure it out," Ranma replied. He was tired

and thus grouchy.

"I get seasick!" Hiro protested.

"I guess you shouldn't have come," Ryoga said, the most he'd said all

day.

Yoshida rapped on their door about five-thirty in the morning. He

instructed them to get dressed and meet him in the building's large common

room in fifteen minutes. That didn't leave them much time between the three

of them, and they squandered none of it with questions.

They found Yoshida eating a simple breakfast of rice and miso soup.

Three more places were set around the small table he had claimed. They saw

twelve other men clustered in small groups at other tables. Ranma noticed

Special Forces flashes on their shoulders. Even more interesting was the

fact that Yoshida himself bore such a flash, plus a UN shoulder insignia

that marked him as a veteran of the Japanese peacekeeping force that

occupied Cambodia in the early nineties.

"You're late," Yoshida said sternly. They were almost a minute late.

Before they could make excuse or apology, Yoshida continued.

"That was the last time you will be late. From this point on you will

be punctual to the very second; not a moment sooner and not a moment later.

If you can't meet this simple requirement, I will arrange for your return

to Yokosuka immediately. Am I clear on this?"

"Hai!" they cried in unison.

"Then I suggest that you synchronize your watches with mine," he said,

and marked the top of the minute for them. "Now sit down and eat. We must be

at the armory by six-thirty."

They ate in silence, each wondering just what they had gotten

themselves into for about the hundredth time since they left Yokosuka. The

Special Forces troops gave them looks ranging from the aloof to the curious,

but said nothing to them or to First Sergeant Yoshida.

When they reached the armory a sergeant from the Special Forces troop

bowed for Yoshida and gave him a formal greeting like any student before his

sensei. Yoshida returned the greeting as any master to his disciple. The

formalities dispensed, they traded words that Ranma and the others couldn't

hear, but were certain pertained to them.

A Special Forces major and an American Navy lieutenant commander were

waiting inside the armory. The major accepted Yoshida's salute and handed

him a folder full of papers.

"These are your volunteers?" the major asked, referring to Ranma, Ryoga,

and Hiro.

"Yes, sir!" Yoshida answered. There was the faintest hint of pride in

his voice.

"They come well recommended," the major added. "Have they been briefed

on the scope and parameters of our mission?"

"No sir, I defer to your discretion in this. They know only the basic

intent and implications of failure."

"Just as well then," the major said. It was clear that he wanted to

conduct the brief himself, and was pleased to have Yoshida recognize this.

He nodded to Yoshida, who turned to face the soldiers.

"Fall in, column of twos!" he ordered. The troop quickly jumped into

two neat columns of men. Ranma and the other two found themselves at the

back of the column. As usual, Ranma kept Ryoga where he could guide him

as they marched, just like the days of basic training.

"Fo'ward, march!"

They marched behind Yoshida, who led them to a staging area. He

ordered them to stand at parade rest while the major and the American

conducted the brief.

The major introduced himself as Takeshi Ishikawa, and the American

as Lieutenant Commander Matthew Zuider. Both were Special Forces in their

respective militaries. Ishikawa would command the squad, and Zuider would

act as liaison with the Americans.

Ishikawa rambled on about timetables, insertion points, communications

protocols and crypto, and probably much more. Unfortunately he was far above

Ranma, Ryoga, and Hiro's military comprehension. Ishikawa was also a poor

speaker, and tended to wander from subject to subject at random. Ranma

didn't consider him incompetent; far from it. He had developed a sense for

judging people's abilities in the years following his little Jusenkyo

'accident', and what he saw in Ishikawa was this:

He was a thoroughly professional, thoroughly merciless, cold-blooded

killer. He was a field man, and would never succeed in more civil circles

of officer gentry. Doubtless he would never see high rank because of this

fact.

Ranma looked to Yoshida, who read his look and whispered to all three

of them, "Listen to me, do what I tell you, and do it exactly when I tell

you. You don't need to know any of this, and I doubt you would understand

half of it anyway. Your training came under fire and under much different

circumstances, and your purpose in this team reflects this."

Ranma gave him a questioning look at Yoshida's last statement, but the

sergeant simply turned around to continue with the brief.

After the brief they were formed up into two teams of six, and Yoshida,

Ranma, Ryoga, and Hiro. A corporal from the armory staff unlocked various

containers and cases under the supervision of a lieutenant. Ranma and the

others could see various weapons, ammunition, and explosives being made

ready.

The Special Forces sergeant stepped forward to act as the issuing

officer.

"As your name is called, step forward and draw your weapons and

ammunition. Sign your full name on the receipt given to you by Corporal

Oshii, and stand by with your team."

He called off the names of the Special Forces troops; who took an

array of assault rifles, submachine-guns, pistols, grenades, ammo, and

enough plastic explosives to orbit Mount Fuji. Each signed his name to

the issuing receipt and took his place back with his team.

"Ohata!" the sergeant called.

Hiro stepped forward and was given a rifle, ten loaded magazines,

enough loose ammo for ten more, a pistol with two magazines, and a

manpack secure radio. He signed his name and returned to Ranma's side.

"Saotome!"

Ranma was issued the standard SA-80 rifle, an MP-5K submachine-gun,

ten magazines of ammo for both weapons, a belt of 7.62mm machine-gun ammo,

two disposable rocket launchers, and four each of fragmentation and thermite

grenades. He signed and took his place by Ryoga, wondering if all that gear

and ammo would be necessary for one mission.

"Hibiki!"

Ryoga lurched in the wrong direction, and was spun around towards

Oshii by Ranma. He was given an M-60A3 machine gun, six belts of 7.62mm

ammo, a pistol, and two magazines. Corporal Oshii gave Ryoga a grin.

"Looks like you'll be the 'pig-man' on this one," he said. The M-60

was not the standard issue light machine-gun, and was substituted for the

usual M-249 by Ishikawa, who felt the need for the heavier 7.62mm round

the M-60 used. The term 'pig-man' came from the Vietnam War, referring to

the men who had to haul that 'pig' around. American influence in the JGSDF

had introduced the term, and it stuck. Ryoga of course wasn't familiar

with the origins of 'pig-man', and quite expectedly took it personally.

"Pig man!?" Ryoga bellowed.

"Hibiki!" Yoshida warned sternly. Ryoga brought himself under control

(an act of significant willpower), and returned to the team.

"Hit the nail right on the head, eh P-Chan?" Ranma teased in a whisper.

"Quiet, you!" Ryoga hissed.

"Oh, I dunno. I thought it was kind of appropriate," Hiro observed.

"The three of you be quiet or I'll cut your throats right here,"

Yoshida growled between clenched teeth.

They were issued other equipment and supplies, and loaded them into

two trucks. They spent the rest of the morning hunkered around the running

engines of the trucks to keep warm. The snow had stopped falling, and the

skies were clear and cold. Yoshida was off with Ishikawa and Zuider,

leaving the men to themselves.

"Just who are you fools supposed to be?" one of the Special Forces

men asked them.

"Didn't you hear?" another said mockingly. "These are the martial

artists!" There was a chorus of bemused laughter at this remark.

"Ooohhh..." another crooned. "They gonna use their 'ki powers' on the

NKs?"

The laughter became more derisive as the troops sneered at them.

Ryoga and Ranma's hackles went up instantly. Hiro was quick to jump

in before things went to hell.

"Well I'm Ohata Hiro," he said smugly.

"Oh yeah?" The Special Forces man returned. "And what do you do,

shoot fireballs from your hands?" More laughs followed.

Hiro was unfazed.

"Well I'm an excellent shot, a top rate radioman, and the best

goddamned driver in the world!"

The soldier laughed once, a short bark more than anything. "I like

the attitude, maybe I'll let you live after this is over."

Oh shit... Hiro thought as he saw Ryoga's foot strike out at

the soldier's face.

The soldier saw it too late. Ryoga planted his strike right on the

chin, cold-cocking him.

"Shut your mouth!" Ryoga snarled.

The others looked up and saw what had happened. They gave the three

evil looks and started for them slowly. Ranma and Ryoga dropped into

fighting stances.

"So the fresh meat wants to play?" one of them observed.

"It's going to be hamburger when we're done," another added.

"Bring it on," Ranma shot back.

"You're making a big mistake," Ryoga warned them.

"Hey guys, let's not be too hasty. The enemy is North Korea,

remember?" Hiro pleaded.

"Let's just say we consider you to be targets of opportunity," a

third growled.

"Enough talk!" Ryoga yelled. He charged into the middle of them.

They rained down blows upon him, but Ryoga shrugged them off

effortlessly. He drove his finger down into the macadam and yelled,

"BREAKING POINT STRIKE!"

The explosion of pavement threw them off his body in a rush of

choking grey dust and asphalt shrapnel. They fell around him like numbers

on a clock face as he drew himself up to his full height.

They slowly got to their feet, determined not to let that happen

again. Ranma kept his guard up, waiting for them to make the first move.

He received three opponents for his troubles. He wasted no time, throwing

a blurring series of punches and strikes into them. One went down, nose

gushing blood. Another took a shot across the jaw and pinwheeled to the

pavement. The third staggered back a few steps wondering what the hell had

just hit him.

Ranma wasn't without his own marks, but they hadn't landed a tenth of

the blows upon him. He stood his ground, wiping a trickle of blood from his

lip. No one else wanted a shot at him. Ryoga went unchallenged as well.

"Anyone else have a problem?" Hiro asked them after they backed down.

Yoshida, Ishikawa, and Zuider returned then, and all of them jumped to

attention. Ishikawa didn't need much help figuring out why his men were

muddy and bloody, but he said nothing of it. He addressed them as if

nothing had happened.

"Load up!" he ordered.

They piled into the trucks. Yoshida sat with Ranma and the others.

"Blowing off steam? Or figuring out where you stand in the pecking

order?" He asked them.

"A little of both I think, sergeant!" Hiro replied.

"Did you win?"

"Hai!" Ranma and Ryoga replied.

"Good. It saves me the trouble of provoking something between you

and the others."

"Huh?" Ryoga grunted in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"How well do you think you would work as a team being outsiders?" he

asked them. "By fighting them and winning, you gained their respect."

"Or just made a few enemies," Hiro said glumly.

"You must understand, Ohata, that these men undertake missions far

more dangerous than regular troops. They depend on each other's skills

and mettle for survival. Because you were an unknown to them, they could

not put trust in you. Now they know that you are formidable opponents,

which also makes you formidable allies."

They drove out to a finger pier. A small boat waited for them. Its

diesel engine chugged at idle.

"Load the gear in the boat," Yoshida directed.

"What? We're gonna ride all the way to Korea in that?" Ryoga stammered.

"Idiot," Ranma spat.

Ryoga clouted Ranma on the back of the head.

"Get moving, you two!" Yoshida ordered, shoving them both out of the

truck.

They joined the others in loading the boat. A few sailors on the pier

cast them off, and the boat chugged out into the channel. They drove out

for several miles before at last seeing their transport.

Not again! Ranma thought blackly.

A submarine cruised slowly towards them. Men stood lookout on the

fairwater planes, and others were perched atop the sail. An American flag

fluttered from a small mast behind the men in the sail. Several spotted

masts and slender green antennae rose above them. Behind the sail were two

large cylindrical objects riding piggy-back on their sides atop the

superstructure.

"It's the best way of inserting undetected," Yoshida said to them.

"If you say so," Hiro cracked.

The boat pulled alongside the sub, which came to a halt in the choppy

waters. Sailors in blue coveralls and men in green camouflage fatigues

helped load the gear aboard. A seven foot diameter hatch swung open aft

of the large black cylinders with a heavy thunk.

That looks like a missile launch tube! Ranma realized. He'd seen

something just like it in one of those gaijin action movies. Sailors began

to load the weapons and equipment into the open hatch.

They were taken on board. As Ranma climbed down the AMR1 hatch and

into the sub he began to get the feeling that he'd been here before. He

nearly walked into a large man with a scraggly beard and horrifying set of

teeth. It was the same sub. No one recognized him, which suited him fine.

They went down a steep set of stairs that set next to several large

machines. Towards the aft end of the small compartment were two large panels

with a series of cascading lights. Someone had drawn a large cross in grease-

pencil on the panels. A yellow and magenta sign warned of a radiation area

existing along the aft bulkhead.

Scratching his head, Ranma turned left to move forward through a

regular door into a long compartment with large cylinders rising up through

the decks. They looked just like the missile tubes he'd seen in that action

movie. Dirty laundry hung from piping and valves all around them, most of it

olive drab and woodland camouflage. The compartment had the musky smell of

unwashed men.

LCDR Zuider led them along the right side of the compartment and

through a watertight door. Ranma ducked through the door and into a

passageway just wide enough for one man to walk through. Zuider motioned

for them to pass through a regular door to their left. They came into a

space filled with two rows of tables and bench seats. It was a mess hall

in miniature; it could accommodate perhaps forty men at meals. Various

photographs of the submarine and plaques from different units adorned the

bulkheads.

Several of the sub's crew were in the compartment. LCDR Zuider was

proficient in Japanese, and he translated for those whose English wasn't

so great. Like Ranma and Ryoga.

The ship's corpsman (they didn't have their own doctor, although the

SEALs on board had their own medical staff) and the Navigator gave them a

brief on ionizing radiation exposure and the places they were and weren't

allowed on board. (Which was Radio, Sonar, the Torpedo Room, and the

Engineering spaces including and aft of the Reactor Compartment.) As they

were all foreign citizens, they had to have an escort with them at all

times.

The Chief of the Boat and a few officers gave their own briefs about

good submarine practices, about noise reduction, and what to do if an

emergency such a fire happened. They didn't bother to mention about what

to do if the boat started sinking. If the opportunity to ask one of the

crew had come up, Ranma would not have been pleased by the answer: "die."

An announcement was made over the ship's speakers, referred to as

the '1MC' by the crew.

"The Officer of the Deck has shifted his watch below decks...

Recirculate."

This was followed by the sensation of increasing speed, and the boat

began to rock back and forth. Hiro began to look green about the gills

almost immediately.

The 1MC buzzed again as someone held down the microphone button to

speak.

"DIVE! DIVE!"

AAAWWOOOOOGAAAHHH!!...AAAWWOOOOOGAAAHHH!!

"DIVE! DIVE!"

The boat began to nose down slightly as the air rushed from the

ballast tank vents. Men casually walked about inspecting the ship for

leaks. They leveled off after some minutes, the ride becoming as smooth as

glass. Hiro looked noticeably relieved.

Their escorts were two members of the off-going watch section.

Apparently the crew rotated around an eighteen hour cycle of six hour

watches. One section was on watch. The section just relieved was the

off-going section. The third section was on coming, and expected to use

the time to sleep.

The escorts showed them their sleeping arrangements. They would have

beds in the Missile Compartment; the space where the SEALs slept and where

weapons and ammunition were stored. The ballistic missiles that once occupied

the compartment were long gone -the sub would never carry them again. A

triple bunk was stuck between a group of four tubes. Ryoga took the bottom

rack, with Hiro quickly claiming the middle. That left the top for Ranma,

who grudgingly climbed up into the top bunk for an idea of what sleeping on

this sub would be like. The last time he was aboard, he was too hurt and

exhausted to care.

"Just how are you supposed to sleep in these things?" Hiro wondered

from below.

One of the escorts laughed as the three wiggled around in their beds.

" Hey these are the king size racks. You should see 'em on a 637. "

The other rubbed at his beard. " Man what I wouldn't give for a real

bed right now. "

Hiro's English was pretty good, and he asked the two, " how long have

you been at sea? "

The taller of the two looked at the other. " I dunno, what day is it? "

The shorter one replied, " I dunno, what's for lunch? "

" Sliders, " said the first.

They looked at each other in thought. " Wednesday! " they cried in

unison.

The taller man rubbed at his beard again. " I guess we've been out

here, what, fifty-eight days? Before that we were in for two days for parts

and food. I wouldn't exactly call that being in port though; we stayed

critical and steamed the whole time. "

Ranma-chan stepped out of the shower and straight across the narrow

passageway into the cubby hole of their racks. A black curtain was drawn

across the space between the tubes for privacy. The lights in the

compartment were out, and most of the people here were asleep.

Ryoga was fast asleep. His leg dangled out of the rack beneath his

own privacy curtain. His slow even breaths could be heard above the muted

hum of recirculation fans and the sounds of the pressure hull flexing as

the submarine changed depth. Their space was lit by red fire lights at

floor level.

Hiro watched her come in. Setting down a pad of paper he was using to

write a letter, he stared at her for a few moments. Ranma-chan thought

nothing of it and draped her towel over a valve handwheel to dry. Her wet

body glistened in the ruddy light.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Hiro said quietly.

"Do what?" Ranma-chan asked.

"Look, I can handle the whole curse thing. I can accept what happens

to you and Ryoga when you get wet, but when you prance around naked and

I haven't been around a girl in a while, it really bugs the hell out of me."

Ranma-chan threw on a pair of shorts and an olive drab tank top.

"Sorry. Guess I'll go to the galley for some hot water."

"Why didn't you just turn back into a guy while you were in the shower?"

Ranma-chan gestured to her petite form. "Because I'm a lot smaller as

a girl. I can be a little more comfortable in these tiny little beds. I

just hope I don't wake up suddenly in the middle of the night and bash my

head."

"Well then stay a girl. Just keep your clothes on already."

"Okay," Ranma-chan grinned. "Sorry."

"You know Saotome, you're just too cute for your own good."

The next afternoon was as quiet as the first. They had just finished

watching a movie on the mess decks, the perennial favorite with the SEALs:

"Tombstone." Their escorts were the same two as the previous day.

" Well, you've burned your first flick aboard the boat. I guess that

makes you about as qualified as a rider can be. " The bearded one said.

Lights began to flash on and off. Ranma had noticed these incandescent

lamps before, and had never seen them lit until now. The boat's illumination

was provided by fluorescent lights which gave the spaces the ambience of a

windowless office building.

The two escorts looked up to confirm what they believed was happening.

Crew members began scurrying quickly and quietly through the open watertight

door to and from the Operations Compartment.

" What's going on? " Hiro asked.

" Silent Battlestations, " the shorter escort supplied. " Here we go

again. "

" What's going to happen? "

" Maybe nothing. Just grab onto something solid and keep your knees

bent. We've been getting depth charged a lot. "

The three paled. They did not like the idea of being trapped several

hundred feet underwater while the North Koreans dropped bombs on them from

above.

The man looked bored with the whole idea. " Don't worry, they probably

have no idea where we are. They just like dropping them in case we're around.

You can hear and feel them from miles away, so don't panic. If they're

close, we'll be dead before we even know what happened. "

The two left them with LCDR Zuider and Ishikawa, then took off headed

aft.

The troops waited in silence. A few members of the Damage Control Party

Forward walked by them to a fire hose connection and began faking out the

hose. Breathing masks called EABs were passed out, and several people

plugged the supply hoses into manifold connections scattered about the

compartment over their heads.

Half an hour passed, and still nothing happened. A few of the DC party

began to talk quietly amongst themselves.

"I wonder what's going on," Ryoga said in a hushed voice.

"I don't hear any depth charges," Hiro added.

Zuider sat down next to them. "It might not be the North Koreans. We

have to hide from our own ships and aircraft as well as the enemy." He

pointd his finger towards the ceiling, and somewhere several hundred feet

above them, the surface of the ocean. "They can't really tell who's who

sometimes, and after the Carl Vinson was hit, everyone up there got a

little trigger happy."

Time crawled along.

The 1MC clicked on. Several members of the DC party stood up, expecting

to secure from Battlestations.

"TORPEDO IN THE WATER!!! ENGINE ROOM UPPER LEVEL: LAUNCH ONE A.D.C.

-SWEPT/SHALLOW!"

There was a clunking noise, which was followed by: "HANGFIRE, TUBE ONE!

SNAPSHOT, TUBE THREE!"

Everyone froze in terror.

From aft, on another MC circuit was heard, "All Ahead Flank -Cavitate!

Shifting Main Coolant Pumps to fast speed!"

The lights dimmed twice, and there were two loud thunks from aft as

the check valves inside the nuclear reactor coolant loops slammed shut

momentarily with the shifting of pump speeds. The boat began to nose down

and pick up speed. The decks vibrated as the submarine surged ahead at its

maximum velocity. The DC party stood by, ready for anything.

Thirty seconds ticked by in utter silence.

The silence was broken with a Klunk-Whunk...Thump...BSSSSHHHHHHHHTTT!

"What the hell was that?" Ranma asked for all of them.

More time passed. A faint whistling noise could be heard. If Ranma had

known better, he would have recognized it as the sound of a torpedo's active

sonar searching for a target. The crew waited with dread for what might

follow, knowing the old sub couldn't possibly outrun an enemy torpedo. Ranma

and the others didn't know what might follow, but if the crew was worried,

they decided to be worried too.

A giant hammer blow rang off the hull of the submarine, pitching men to

and fro, and rattling pipes over their heads. The sound was deafening. Ranma

watched as a run of piping jumped a foot from its place and paint chips and

dust flurried around them.

A siren whooped as men fought to regain their footing and scrambled

around looking for damage.

"Explosion close aboard!" the 1MC crackled. "All hands inspect spaces

for damage and make reports to DC Central."

This was followed shortly by:

"Reactor SCRAM. Rig ship for reduced electrical; make reports to

Maneuvering... Prepare to snorkel!"

Ranma and the others joined in the search. There were minor leaks and

some injuries, but they had fared much better than those first few seconds

had seemed. They stood down from Battlestations after all damage and

injuries were assessed.

"Commencing a Fast Recovery Start-Up on Group One control rods," the

2MC crackled. "Secure snorkeling."

LCDR Zuider found them sitting in a group around a missile tube that

now served as the ship's small arms magazine. The tension was still evident

on their faces. Ishikawa had suffered a cut across his arm that the corpsman

was stitching up in the tiny sick bay behind them.

"I'm told we nearly ran over a Romeo class sub. They spooked and fired

a torpedo in the wrong direction. We shot back. The explosion was our

torpedo hitting them."

Ryoga didn't buy it. "That was our torpedo hitting them?"

"They say it was only five thousand yards away when it got them,"

Zuider explained.

"That's almost five kilometers away!" Ranma cried.

"A Mark 48 torpedo packs a big warhead," Zuider returned. "Concussion

also transmits much better through water than air."

"I thought that was us getting hit," Hiro cried. "I thought we were

doomed."

"Well never fear, we'll be leaving this tub tonight. From now on we'll

be in control of our fate." Zuider stood up. Ishikawa was all stitched up,

and motioned for Yoshida to come over. They talked for a few moments.

"We'll have our final mission brief and hand out assignments in one

hour. Weapons and equipment checks will follow the brief. Get cleaned up

and be in line for the meal as soon as the on-coming crew members have

eaten."

Chapter Four

"Prepare to surface without air," the Chief of the Watch ordered over

the 1MC.

They were dressed out in camouflage fatigues and grease painted faces,

necks, and hands. The lights were switched to red as they prepared to go

topside. Crew members and SEALs stood by to help them get ready.

"SURFACE! SURFACE! SURFACE!" cried the 1MC.

A large fan kicked on from somewhere forward. The boat slowly pulled

itself out of the sea as air was drawn through the snorkel mast and blown

into the ballast tanks. Within ten minutes a phone-talker reported that the

boat was surfaced, and that they had permission to open the hatches.

The crewman with the formidable teeth climbed up the ladder and twisted

the wheel to undog the hatch. It sprung open with a heavy thunk. He opened

the upper hatch, and cold night air rushed in, refreshingly clean. There was

no moon out, and the sky was overcast and dark.

They clambered topside. Two men and a phone-talker took stations, and

a big missile tube muzzle hatch swung open. The crew and the SEALs pulled

inflatable rubber boats from the tube and readied gasoline powered outboard

motors.

When the two RIBs were inflated and ready, the troops piled into them

with their gear. Ishikawa admonished them to keep a secure hold on their

weapons and equipment. The dark outline of the North Korean coastline was to

their left, just barely on the horizon. They had studied a videotape

recording of it taken through the low light camera on the number two

periscope during their briefing.

The missile hatch went shut and the crew all dropped below. They shut

the hatches behind them as the last man went down. The Team waited in the

boats for the submarine to dive.

"As Kuno would say, 'Once more into the breach, dear friends,'" Hiro

declared.

The ballast tank vents opened. Twelve tall fountains of spray thirty

feet high hissed from the vents atop the superstructure. The submarine began

to sink underneath them, and the cold and choppy sea awaited their boats.

They entered the water roughly, a wave splashing over them. Ryoga

dropped into the folds of his uniform instantly with a squeal of disgust.

Ranma cursed in a voice much higher pitched as the red bangs appeared over

her eyes. Hiro and Yoshida winced as they saw what had happened, but

everyone else was too busy keeping the boat steady to notice.

Well this is a great way to start off. Good thing I planned ahead,

Ranma-chan thought to herself. The steel thermos was comfortably warm at

her side.

They got the outboards running and trolled towards the coast. Ranma-

chan used a little of her hot water on Ryoga, saving the rest for later if

they needed it. At least as a pig it didn't take much to transform Ryoga

back to his human self.

Ryoga sizzled up into his uniform all backwards and inside out. Yoshida

barked in a hushed tone to get squared away and keep a sharp look out.

Ranma-chan winked to him once and peered down the nightsight of her rifle.

Ryoga grimaced, and put his uniform on correctly. Ishikawa was in the other

boat, which was still having problems, and had yet to notice the strange

transformations in his team.

Ukyo had just finished cleaning up her okonomiyaki shop, and sat down

to read her mail. Most of it was the usual stuff; bills and junk mail. The

personal letter surprised her, as she got few of them these days. The name

of the sender surprised her even more.

"Ranma-honey!" she cried in delight. She tore open the letter and

pulled out a hastily scrawled piece of paper.

She scanned it quickly, eyes suddenly widening in shock.

"No..." She breathed softly.

Dear Ucchan,

I'm writing you this because you're the only one I can talk to.

Something has come up that I couldn't talk about even if I understood it.

I'm going back to Korea. I'm not being ordered to or nothing, but I have

to go. I'll explain someday when this is all behind us.

I had to tell someone, and I can't tell Akane. I don't think she'd

understand. I don't want her to worry, either.

Just in case something happens to me, I want you to tell her that I

wouldn't have gone back to Korea if it wasn't important. And believe me,

it is important. You're my best friend Ucchan, and the only one I can

trust to do the right thing.

But don't worry, 'cause I'm not planning on dying.

Your Friend,

Ran-chan

P.S. If you can, get everyone out of the city for a week or so. This

is important!

Ukyo couldn't believe she was reading this. Ranma going back to Korea?

She couldn't imagine any reason that would convince Ranma to go back into

combat. And get everyone out of the city for awhile? What the hell was that

about?

She set the letter down, resisting the urge to crumple it up and forget

all about it.

Don't you dare let anything happen to you, Ranchan! she thought,

choking back tears.

The boats crested the low surf as two troopers jumped out of each and

towed them to the rocky beach. They clambered out of the boats and dragged

them fully out of the water. Ranma-chan and Ryoga covered while the others

dug holes to bury the boats and motors.

Ishikawa got their bearings and formed them up into a file. Ranma, Hiro,

and Ryoga led in the vanguard while a Special Forces soldier took point and

another walked drag. They made for the first line of hills that would take

them into the valley east of Wonsan. It was a dangerous move, for the city

was a major North Korean seaport and airfield.

They walked in silence, melding with the terrain, invisible in the dark

winter night. They scanned black hills with their nightscopes, crossed snowy

valleys along wildlife trails, slipped through lines of barbed wire and

concrete dragon's teeth. The coastal city of Wonsan was darkened against air

raid. They used the darkness to skirt around the town and head inland for

the line of mountains that was their objective.

Several bitterly cold nights passed without event as they neared their

objective. The sound of artillery was to the south. Jet aircraft flew high

overhead in defiance of North Korean Air Defenses. At odd times during the

night a missile volley would scream into the skies to intercept those

aircraft, and lines of green tracer fire criss-crossed the darkness. The

sudden skyfire would light up the snowy forested hills around them, and they

used that light to look for the enemy.

They found them in darkened columns along unlit roads, trucks and

armored vehicles and artillery. Men marched in silence beneath them on the

hill, only the drone of engines rolled off the hill sides to give them away.

This was the final push being made ready.

The team moved on without contact. They had their objective and didn't

spare even another moment for the troops below them. They too had a time

table to keep.

Somewhere on this peninsula, Ranma knew, were other teams of commandos.

Americans, South Koreans, Australians. Even another Japanese team that would

insert by parachute drop -an even greater risk than walking over kilometers

of enemy territory given the foul weather and the formidable air defenses.

If the gods were willing, they would all hit their targets within minutes

of each other and overwhelm the North Korean Rocket Forces. If not, the very

raid itself might preclude the missile attack they were trying to prevent.

Dawn was threatening with graying skies to the east. They dug into the

thick woods along a hill and slept in shifts. Snow began to fall as noon

approached, the beginnings of a storm. Hiro monitored the commo channels.

Just as the storm was coming upon them, he learned that the final offensive

had begun.

As the wind became colder and stronger, Yoshida formed them up to march

again. They would use the storm to cover their advance. With luck they'd

gain an extra few hours to scout and prepare for their strike.

First contact came by blind chance.

A crackle of automatic weapons fire bit into the freezing air. Ranma

and the others crouched low and looked for cover, while the support team

with Ryoga moved up along the hill top to flank. The sound of their own

weapons returning fire came next; quick, precise bursts. The heavy and

reassuring thumping sound of Ryoga's M-60 joined the cacophony of shouts,

cries, and fire.

The snow was blinding and the terrain lush with trees. Ranma wasn't

sure where the enemy was, only that they were in front of him somewhere.

Several of his own team were also ahead of him. That would complicate

things.

Yoshida nudged him.

"Move forward, Saotome. Cut along the lower trail with Ohata, and sweep

around to the right fifty meters." The sergeant's eyes went hard and cold

as he continued. "And Saotome, none of this shooting to wound. We can't

afford to leave any survivors. Shoot to kill."

Ranma swallowed back a lump in his throat. A part of him knew that

coming back to Korea for this mission would mean sparing no mercy for his

enemies. As abhorrent as killing had been for him, there was an undeniable

necessity for it if he wished to finish this. He steeled himself and

scrambled down the hill with Hiro.

They dashed through a copse of trees, the snow blowing around them,

and the wind covering their advance. Ranma wasn't sure how far fifty

meters was through all this, but thumped Hiro on the elbow and bore left to

take them back up the hill and to the sporadic sounds of gunfire. He was

breathing hard now and sweating even though it was below freezing.

There was movement above and ahead of them. Ranma dropped into a

firing stance as Hiro covered around a tree.

He saw them then, three North Koreans. They were running down the hill

while one was trying to get their radio to work. He held his breath and took

aim.

By reflex he aimed low. At the last he brought his rifle up and

squeezed the trigger, cursing in his mind and trying to forget what he was

doing even as the light recoil tapping his shoulder stirred his blood. A

three round burst flew precisely as aimed, taking the one with the radio

straight through the chest. Bright red blood sprayed from his body and

sparks flew from the radio pack as the bullets burst clear out his backside.

The other two dropped into the snow and brought up their weapons

firing. The dead man with the radio hit the snow with a heavy thump as

Ranma took aim and fired again. His burst tore through a Korean's head in

a blossom of red blood, black hair and pink froth.

Hiro stitched fire across the other, catching him along the back.

Ranma saw the snow stained red as the last of the three spasmed once and

then lay still. Steam curled from their lifeless forms. The shooting had

stopped above them. He didn't look at them again.

They reached the top of the hill in time to see one of their own

cutting the throat of a wounded Korean. He held the man down almost gently

with his hand over the mouth as he drew his razor sharp tanto across the

tender brown flesh. The Korean gave one brief whimper behind the gloved

hand before the light went from his eyes.

Yoshida's words came back to him in rush that threatened to expel his

breakfast. We can't afford to leave any survivors.

Ishikawa cleaned his knife on the body of another dead Korean. He

circled his hand to bring the team together. They hadn't taken any

casualties.

"We need to move on. There's no time to dispose of the bodies," he

said just loud enough to be heard over the wind. "By the time they're

discovered in all of this bad weather, we should be long gone. Let's go,

sergeant."

Yoshida nodded. "Yessir. Saotome, you and Ohata form up with Hibiki

in the support team. The rest of you move out."

Ryoga nodded as Ranma and Hiro joined him. His M-60 steamed as flakes

of snow melted upon the barrel. Flecks of red speckled his face and fatigues.

His face was a gaunt mask, in some ways mirroring their own.

"You okay, Ryoga?" Ranma asked.

"I'm fine, Ranma." Ryoga replied flatly. "Thanks for asking," he added.

Ranma tipped his helmet back with the muzzle of his rifle. "You're my

friend, Ryoga. Whether you like it or not."

Ryoga started marching as the team moved out. "Heh... It's something

I need to get used to, Ranma."

"Take your time," Ranma finished with a wave of his hand.

One of the Special Forces team approached them and clapped Ranma on

the shoulder. "You guys did good. Those three would have slipped away if it

weren't for you, and it'd be all of our asses for it."

Ranma nodded slowly, accepting the truth of it if not the praise. Was

he better for living or worse for killing because of it? There wasn't much

time to think about it with the threat of discovery demanding all his

attention.

They pressed on with new urgency. They had to assume the alert had

gone out, and that troops would pursue them. They walked single file to

hide their numbers, and the snowfall covered their tracks.

It was night again when they sighted their objective. It was a line

of hard rock mountains known as Keumonjori that the North Koreans had been

tunneling into for decades. These mountains had concealed their cache of

food, weapons, and ammunition so well that no one had any hard estimates

of their supplies.

Air Defense batteries ringed the mountains and lay in wait in the

valleys. The ground was churned where repeated bombing attacks had pounded

the countryside. Surface to Air Missile batteries probed overcast skies the

color of lead. 57mm anti-aircraft cannon awaited direction from radar sites

that lay beneath camouflage netting and sandbags. The radars themselves lay

along the back sides of hills to prevent anti-radiation missiles from

destroying them.

The wrecks of Allied planes were scattered across the hills. Snow

covered the twisted and burned wreckage from older crashes, and steam wafted

from the embers of recent ones. The UN forces had paid dearly to fly over

these hills.

Ishikawa called a halt.

They set up around the ridgeline, keeping to the opposite slope for

cover. Final plans were laid and weapons were checked and rechecked.

Ishikawa and Zuider scanned the mountain redoubt for a way in. Their

satellite radar image photos had located a likely access to the mountain

that was close to a nest of launchers, and now it was up to them to

translate that data into something they could use.

While the officers searched; Ranma, Hiro, and Ryoga squatted in the

cover of the brush to change their socks. Their feet were wet and freezing,

and they were down to their last pair of dry socks. The others in the team

followed suit.

They pulled their boots off and stripped away their socks, wringing

them out before stowing them in their packs. Each man spent a few minutes

rubbing the circulation back into their feet. They pulled their last pairs

of socks from the shelter of their jackets, their body heat keeping them

toasty warm. Their feet rejoiced at having something dry and warm to

protect them again.

They were all tired and cold. The last meal they had taken had been

on the march. Niceties like hot food and some good tea were only waking

dreams as they marched.

"I'll be glad when this is over," Ryoga said quietly.

"You and me both," Hiro added. "One way or another."

"What do you mean by that?" Ranma asked.

Hiro shrugged. "Has it occurred to you just how deep this pile of

shit we've landed in is? When we go down there and start blowing things

up, we'll have the whole damn North Korean army up our ass with a stick.

Getting out of here alive is gonna be tougher than getting into that

mountain."

Ryoga's face twisted into anger.

"Didn't you volunteer for this?" he hissed. "You knew the risks."

Hiro looked down at his knees. "Sure did," he replied softly.

"Then don't complain," Ryoga returned. "You asked for this, y'know."

"Yeah, I know," Hiro said quietly. "I just wondered if you knew."

"Take it easy, you two," Ranma said quietly. "Our fight is down there,

not up here."

After an hour of painstaking search with nightvision gear, they

found the access they were looking for. As they performed final checks

on their weapons, Ishikawa detailed their plan one last time. When he

finished, he decided to make one last point perfectly clear.

"When we go in, we can't let up for an instant," he began. "We're

outnumbered badly. If we give them the time to rally, they'll cut us to

pieces. If we give them time to react, they might try to launch their

missiles."

He lowered his voice slightly before continuing. "If any of us

survive, link up along the coast and head south." He looked at each of

his men in turn. "Good luck to us all. Sergeant, move us out."

Yoshida formed them up, and they marched down the hill and into the

last valley before the mountain. Hiro offered a silent prayer above.

Ranma joined him, though he didn't know it at the time.

Akane pushed aside her piles of books and other people's notes. She

had spent days trying to cover the material she had missed. She could

pass her finals, but it would take some kind of miracle to salvage her

grades.

The snow was falling again outside the window of her tiny flat.

Her roommate was asleep in the next room, snoring softly. It was cold,

but she didn't mind it so much.

Once she took her finals she could return home and relax for a

little while. Ranma would be home for good, and that would do wonders

for her peace of mind. The fact that his friend Hiro could be sent back

to Korea did not sit well with her.

Once she returned home she would work on him a little more to get

him to come to school with her next fall. It shouldn't take too much

persuasion, she mused with a sly smile. I just have to convince him

that the company is better with me than at home.

She decided to call it a night. Morning was closer to the truth,

actually. She just had one exam today, and that was in the afternoon.

No problem. A little sleep and she'd be feeling fine and fit.

She began stacking and filing her notes. It was an attempt at least

to try and overcome the entropy that overwhelmed the living room table.

A stack of mail fell from beneath a pile of notebooks.

Must be Yumiko's, she thought, picking up the letters. She

brought in the mail, but she didn't say anything was for me.

Akane found herself looking at the names just the same.

"Hey! This is from Ranma!" she cried in surprise and jealousy.

How the heck does he know Yumiko? her mind ranted at full volume.

Yumiko stirred in the other room, but became still after a minute's

silence from Akane.

She looked closer at the letter. Her face reddened sheepishly as

she saw that letter was addressed to her, that all of the mail was

addressed to her.

Akane wasted no time in ripping the envelope open. She hadn't

thought he would write to her with the two of them only hours apart by

train. Giving him her address had been something of wishful thinking.

The letter was typical Ranma, she saw upon cursory glance. Short.

Dear Akane,

Life here at the base is pretty boring. Well except for that missile

attack, but don't worry, they didn't come anywhere near me. We've got some

missiles of our own to shoot them down anyways.

Everything looks good for me getting out by Christmas. I'm sure it

will be the best one we've had in a long time. At least the army's paying

me more than what I made doing odd jobs, so I can afford to get you a

really nice present.

If you want to talk to me about college, I'll listen. Sitting here

shoveling snow has really made me think about it. I say what the heck, if

I don't like it, I always have a job at the dojo.

I've gotta go now so I'll wrap this up. Good luck with your finals,

and I'll see you soon.

Love,

Ranma

Akane couldn't help but get a little dewy-eyed when he was intimate

with her. She read the letter again before folding it neatly into the

envelope. She would put it with all of the other letters he had written

her, the ones from Korea. Reading those letters made being apart easier

for her.

She turned off the light. The flakes of snow dusting her window

stirred with the wind, which sighed peacefully. For a moment she wondered

if Ranma was awake watching the snow somewhere. She decided against it.

Ranma liked to sleep when he could.

Ranma Saotome, heir to the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts,

crawled a hundred meters through the snow to reach the next line of barbed

wire. Grenades had been strung along the line as booby traps, and their

point man had nosed them through a mine field with his knife. A piece of

wood stuck into the snow marked each mine.

They made a kilometer in three hours this way.

At last they were at the roots of the mountain. They had just ninety

minutes to spare before the appointed time for all of the commando teams to

strike. The attacks would come along the entire mountain line in the hopes

of destroying all of North Korea's Rocket Forces. A desperate all out

bombing attack would follow on the heels of the commando strike, and it was

the unspoken consensus of the team that if the North Koreans didn't kill

them, their own jets would. Hiro's words had the undeniable ring of truth.

He watched as the men he and Ryoga had brawled with on the pier at

Sasebo climbed up a sheer rock face to plant explosives on a microwave tower

that linked the mountain complex to Strategic Rocket Forces headquarters in

Pyongyang. The four men moved with urgent care as they slithered up and

then down the rock face. If the charges did their job, Keumonjori wouldn't

be getting any launch orders when Operation Chancellor began in earnest.

The entrance to the mountain was a wide gravel road now buried in six

inches of snow. Steel beams braced up the arch of the door, which was hewn

from the mountain itself. Camouflage netting and the snowfall had concealed

the door from unaided eyes, but now they were within spitting distance of

the thing.

Four guards in a bunker passed the time telling jokes. Ishikawa waited

until the watch was relieved, then gave the signal. They advanced on the

bunker with drawn knives and suppressed MP-5Ks. Two troopers slid through

the door. The four in the bunker died instantly and silently as subsonic

9mm hollowpoints went into the backs of their heads.

They pressed on into the tunnel. Hard rock hewn with hammers and

braced with steel made it clear why the bombers had been useless against

the launch sites. They proceeded into the darkness and past another sentry.

The sentry went down in a burst of suppressed fire before he could even

draw breath to shout. The only sounds to be heard were the clacking of

MP-5K bolts, the jingling of brass on stone, and the thump of the corpse

falling face first. A trooper dragged the body into a dark corner of the

already dimly lit tunnel junction.

They began planting charges on drums of diesel fuel, along power cable

runs, anything that would cause lots of collateral damage and spread

confusion. The missile launch cells would be along the sides of the

mountain, and they climbed higher into the heart of it to reach them.

They continued on. Forty minutes slipped by in an adrenalized blur.

Thus far they had avoided detection as they reached an intersection in the

tunnels.

"Patrol coming!" their point man hissed.

They faded into the shadows and behind the dubious cover of wooden

crates stacked along the passageways.

The word passed from behind set them even further on edge.

"Six coming up behind with flashlights," the drag man declared with

a hiss.

Ishikawa gave hand signals to the team.

They advanced at a quick trot. Ryoga followed just behind three

troopers with suppressed MP-5Ks to give support if needed. Ranma and Hiro

stuck with Ryoga to support him. The others formed a quick rearguard ambush

and readied grenades.

The point man and the three troopers dashed from cover too late. They

almost made it to the other side of the crossroads before the North Korean

patrol shouted warnings and opened fire. The six rifles barked, echoing

hollowly in the stone tunnels. One of the troopers took hits across the

legs and stumbled. The rest returned fire with their submachineguns.

Silent 9mm rounds tore into the patrol, dropping three in the same

instant as the Japanese trooper fell. From behind the team came the sounds

of another firefight.

Ranma and Hiro were still in cover when the shooting started. The

fighting reflexes took over, and they ducked around the corner of the

tunnel. Both men fired quick bursts at the surviving patrol members,

cutting down two of them. The last patroller froze in confusion, having

fire thrown at him from two directions. He was alive not a moment later.

A chorus of explosions went off behind them. The rearguard and

Ishikawa's team came dashing up from down the tunnel. From the far end of

the cross tunnel came the sounds of heavy boots and clacking weapons.

Gunfire erupted around them.

Chips of stone and hot scraps of metal from spent rounds sprayed

around them as Ranma, Ryoga, and Hiro dashed across the crossroads to join

the others. Their wounded man had died in the crossfire, lying face down,

his limbs splayed to the four corners.

"Get that MG going, Hibiki!" one of the Special Forces sergeants

barked.

Ryoga grunted once and braved the open again. The machine-gun hammered

away, spilling hot brass across the ground. Shrieks filled the air as their

enemy was caught advancing in the open. Ranma and the rest popped out and

joined the fusillade, using Ryoga's attack to give them the initiative.

"Advance!" Ishikawa called.

Ranma charged low towards the North Koreans. Ryoga carefully walked

his machine-gun fire ahead of him to keep him covered. Hiro was close

behind Ranma, readying a grenade. He released the spoon and held his breath.

They reached a side passage the surviving North Koreans had ducked

into for cover. Ranma plastered himself against the wall as Hiro lobbed the

grenade around the corner. The grenade went off a second later. Black smoke

and a tooth rattling whomp engulfed them.

"Advance!" Ishikawa ordered. He was moving up behind them. "We have

to break out of here or we're dead!" he added for additional emphasis. Not

that Ranma and Hiro needed much prompting on that account. The passageway

could be their killing field next if they didn't get away.

They charged around the corner, heading steadily upwards. Alarms began

to sound, as if the rest of the mountain was just beginning to awaken to the

turmoil in its belly. Ranma tried his best to ignore the broken and

lacerated dead at his feet. He had more important concerns, and they had

little to do with matters of conscience.

They ran into another reaction force patrol. Ranma's flying leap kick

sent them tumbling to the ground, and Hiro and Ryouga finished them as the

pig-tailed martial artist rolled clear. The enemy was still running around

in confusion, and it was very early in the morning -when defenses are at

their least prepared. They still had a chance.

They reached another intersection. Ishikawa, Zuider, and most of the

others could read the Korean stencils on the walls, and knew that each

tunnel would take them to a launch cell. They wouldn't have time to hit

all of them in series.

Ishikawa split them up into three teams. Ranma, Hiro, Ryoga, and a

private named Fujita were led by Yoshida. They proceeded up a wide ramp of

stone. Ishikawa took five others and headed left. Zuider took the other

five and went right. They were to reach as many rocket sites as possible

and plant explosives. If they were caught they were to destroy as much as

they could before they died.

Ranma took the point while Fujita readied explosive charges on the

move. Ryoga stayed back with Yoshida, and Hiro walked drag with a

suppressed pistol. They were on their own.

They climbed up the ramp at least forty meters, coming into a storage

area. Several forklifts were parked around piles of wooden crates. Strips

of paper packing were strewn about. No one was around to bother them.

The choice was to go still higher into the mountain or try one of the

side tunnels. Both led to launch cells according to the signs. Yoshida opted

for a side tunnel which had a rail track running through it, and they crept

along past a steel door. There was strong odor coming from the tunnel. A

fuel smell, like diesel. It was carried on a cold breeze.

"Charges are ready," Fujita hissed to Yoshida.

Ranma edged closer to another steel door. He could hear machinery

noises and the sounds of several voices all talking at once. He crouched

low, giving the signal to wait as he gripped his MP-5K tighter.

On the other side of the door was a chamber hollowed out of the side

of the mountain. Another set of steel doors opened to a long tunnel on the

far side. A set of railroad tracks led from the chamber to the tunnel. The

machinery noises were from a diesel engine clanking at the far side of the

tunnel. Ranma couldn't see down the far side of the tunnel because of the

many lights strung from the walls of the cavern.

There were at least a hundred people in the cavern, half of them armed

soldiers. The rest appeared to be technicians or engineers. They hastily set

up defensive positions. A large crane and gantry crowned the top of the

chamber. A complex run of piping and pumps was fed by two great tanks.

Ranma could see many signs painted in red and yellow, and though he couldn't

read a word of Korean, he was sure they said something like 'flammable.'

There was something else as well. A heavy crate made of steel was

sitting to one side, its lid open. A man stood next to the crate armed with

a rifle. The crate was also marked with something Ranma didn't need to read

Korean to understand.

It was a series of trefoils colored yellow and black.

He ducked back and reported everything to Yoshida.

There was no easy way to do this. The North Koreans were preparing to

launch, and what they all feared was about to happen. "Alright, this is what

we're here for," he said in a hoarse whisper. He quickly laid it out for

them. "Saotome has the point. Hibiki gives cover fire. Fujita has the

charges. Ohata and I will be right behind Saotome. Move."

Ranma's heart was racing and every breath a drowning gasp even as he

took that first step back to the door. The whole country was alerted to

them by now. This was it. He knew in that moment that he had come all this

way to die here. If not from a bullet, than from all of the rocket fuel, or

Fujita's satchel full of plastic explosives as he brought the house down on

them, or the bomber strike that was probably already airborne and inbound.

He checked his MP-5K. He had two magazines left plus some loose ammo

he'd never have time to use. He left the submachinegun slung, and readied

two grenades, pulling the pins while keeping a firm grip on the spoons.

He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it out slowly. His

heart stopped racing, and he stepped forward to start the final attack.

The price for my life? he mused suddenly. The thought of his

unavoidable death had made him strangely calm and reflective. That maybe,

just maybe, enough of the other teams would destroy enough of the Scuds

that Japan's air defenses could shoot down anything that got off the

ground. After all those maybe's and could-be's Japan might be spared

another nuclear attack. Tokyo would be standing in the morning and Akane

and all of my friends and family at home would still be alive... He

closed his eyes and smiled. A bargain, Nabiki might say.

The hand grenades rolled from his fingertips and around the corner

into the chamber. A double explosion rocked the passageway, and dense black

smoke reeking of cordite engulfed the team. Ranma jumped through the hot

cloud of smoke with a shout.

He moved across the threshold of the door with an inner peace that

quelled all fear and doubt. His steps were light and quick as if he were

strolling across a park. Yoshida and Hiro followed a step behind him,

grenades flying from their hands to the opposite sides of the chamber.

Ryoga rolled out with the M-60 level with his chest, every belt of ammo

he had left was linked together and snaked over his left bicep to the

stone floor. Fujita slipped across the threshold and sprinted towards the

left.

The North Koreans who were still standing saw them and turned in slow

motion. Their voices were drawn out agony. Somewhere beyond his detached

sense of consciousness Ranma's finger tensed on the trigger.

Like that first time on the beach, he saw every round from his weapon

leap spinning from the muzzle. His eyes tracked the paths of his fire as

they reached out and struck those nearest him. There was no sound from

his weapon save the clacking of the bolt. There were only the screams of

pain and panic and the symphony of hot brass on cold stone.

Yoshida and Hiro opened up with their rifles to either side and joined

in the chorus. The whistle and whine of the bullets across the cold air was

met with the heavy staccato thunder of Ryoga's M-60. Chips of stone and

bright blood sprayed all around them. They were all howling like banshees

as they charged because they would seize up with fear if they didn't scream.

The North Koreans fell all around them even as they charged into their

midst. Ranma's ammo was gone in seconds, and he flung the submachinegun

away carelessly. He followed through with every ounce of fighting spirit,

hammering blow after blow upon them. He twisted and whirled and struck and

dodged as bodies flew and bullets sang and life was stolen all around him.

Jacketed lead ripped through his clothes and grazed his flesh, but couldn't

harm him, as if he were merely a grimly painted phantasm.

The chamber seemed to jump about three feet as a gigantic explosion

rocked the mountain. Rock fell from the ceiling and the gantry wobbled with

a tortured scream of metal. Alarms rang from everywhere at once.

One of the other teams just died, a detached part of Ranma's

consciousness told him. At least they got one of the launchers.

He sprang back to his feet as Fujita was ripped apart in a fusillade

of gunfire. The satchel full of explosives fell from his slackened grasp

upon the blood slicked floor. Fujita spun once before he fell, and Ranma

looked into his eyes and saw only infinite sadness there. Even worse than

the man's death was the fact that the satchel charge was now armed to

explode in sixty seconds -right next to the tanks of flammables.

A storm of lead from Ryoga silenced those guns that had killed Fujita.

Yoshida cut apart another group with his last burst of rifle fire before

drawing his knife and leaping into them with abandon.

Hiro kept close to Ranma's side as he jammed magazine after magazine

into his rifle. The fighting was so fast and so confusing that there was no

semblance of tactics, no time for firing stances, no time for anything

except shooting and praying. It was a total free for all at knife fighting

range. Advantage went to the side of inertia, and at that second Ranma and

the others had it.

They were halfway across the chamber and knee deep in Korean blood

when the fire and smoke roiled up through the tunnel behind them. A massive

reservoir of diesel fuel had been ruptured elsewhere in the mountain, and

it now spilled a flaming river through the stone passages. Above all the

sounds of gunfire and screams of the dying, came the sizzle and roar of

fiery fuel from behind. The far tunnel doors began to swing shut, and the

lights flickered and died as the power generators exploded at the base of

the mountain.

From the corner of his eye, Ranma saw Yoshida go down to his knees as

they overwhelmed him. Knives and bayonets flashed in the light of the fire.

His blood fountained from terrible wounds. His last dying scream drowned

in his throat as he pitched over.

There was no time for his killers to gloat as the river of fire

consumed them from the inner door. Ranma had Hiro in one hand, dragging the

man forward and to the far tunnel. Ryoga was right behind them, hosing the

last of his ammo at the flanks. The flames spread out into the chamber, seeking

the low spots and filling the air with hot smoke.

Hiro got back to his feet, leaving Ranma free to fight unencumbered

once more. His cries of "TENSHIN AMIGURIKAN!" brought them down soldier and

technician alike. His kicks stole away life and breath and his eyes glowed

with his fury. Ryoga was at their side then, swinging the depleted machine

gun like his umbrella of old.

They reached the doors just as they slammed shut. Ranma spun around to

face his enemies, who were rushing to revenge themselves upon him before

they were consumed in the flames. Ryoga pounded on the door with all his

might as the smoke and the fumes choked at their lungs. The intense heat

was alien and yet welcome after spending so long in bitter cold.

Ranma took them apart wholesale as they rushed him. They piled around

his feet in broken limbed agony, hands reaching up to his ankles in last

desperate attempts to take him down. Hiro beat at them with his rifle, and

the composite stock splintered with each strike.

At their back, Ryoga Hibiki channeled the last of his strength in one

final gambit. If it didn't work, the satchel charge or the expanding lake of

fire would kill them all. He reached into the deepest pit of despair he

possessed, and his voice rocked the mountain.

"SHI SHI HOKODAN!!!!"

The last of his strength boiled away in the final ki-blast; a sulfurous

gout of hell that swelled in blistering hands and then cannon-balled through

the steel doors like a tiny sun.

Ranma couldn't see what had happened, but he had a pretty good idea.

He back-flipped clear of the melee, and sprinted past the white hot edges of

the hole. Hiro grabbed Ryoga, and together they pulled him through.

The last of their enemies were blown to smithereens as Fujita's satchel

charge went up. The explosion's force was vented past the hole like a giant

eductor; threatening to suck them back into the fiery maelstrom. They clawed

at the rough hewn stone for purchase as a fresh blast of heat and smoke

washed over them.

Adrenaline kept them going as they raced down the tunnel. The entire

mountain seemed ready to explode as the fires touched off more fuel. At the

end of the tunnel the tracked mobile Scud launcher was ready for firing. A

firing officer in the cab of the vehicle pushed the launch button in

desperation.

The No Dong-1 missile roared into the predawn sky in a blinding flash

of orange light. Poisonous gases boiled around the launcher because the

launch site's fans had failed in the attack, and the launch officer choked

and died in agony. Ranma cried out in despair as the missile climbed over

the mountain.

Heedless of the smoke and the heat, he sprinted out of the mouth of

the launch site and thrust both hands into the air. As Ryoga had done, he

now gathered everything he had in him for one last chance. Hot winds

rushed around him from the tunnel.

The ground shook at his feet as his entire body trembled with

desperation. The wind gathered at the heels of his scorched boots and

spiraled around him in growing power. The air itself crackled with energy

as if even Hiro's and Ryoga's essence were feeding it.

The missile was higher now, almost through the clouds.

"...HIRYU..."

The wind was now a cyclone of ki-energy, all that he could muster

and then some that should never have been his. He kept his ki cool, forcing

himself to stay calm if it was going to work.

"...SHOTEN..."

Ranma was suspended a meter off the stone floor as the cyclone

swelled. His mind was an antenna for forces within him he had never dared

summon. Now more than any time in his life did he need the power he

wrenched from his soul. His hands ripped at the skies as he screamed

the final word and released the cyclone.

"...HAAAAA!!!!!!!!"

The Ascending Dragon Fist blowtorched through his body, becoming a

brilliant funnel of destructive force that reached into the sky. The

atmosphere collapsed upon the eye of the funnel in a deafening thunderclap.

The missile was thrown into a lazy ballistic arc as its booster was shorn

from it in a fireball. The weapon fell from the skies to land twenty

kilometers to the south.

Some part of the thing survived the forces that called for its

destruction, for the fifty kiloton nuclear warhead obeyed its final

directive at an altitude of two thousand feet.

The sun rose in the south and in the east then. The burst of light and

hard gamma radiation bathed the entire peninsula in its roentgen glow. The

overpressure wave came next some moments later, casting aside men and

machines, trees, buildings, and planes like unwanted toys.

Ranma fell over the side of the cliff as Hiro and Ryoga took his

spent form in their arms. They landed in the boughs of pines and firs and

tumbled down into a bank of snow. When the overpressure wave came for them,

it was a thousand ton hydraulic press. Every ounce of air in their lungs

was blasted out with the hammer blow of the concussion. The sound of the

airburst was so loud that it brought stars to their eyes.

In the end there was no pride, no glory of a final heroic sacrifice.

There was only heat and sound and terror unimaginable. When the glowing

plasma fireball had reached its zenith and burned out of the sky, there

was only silence in its passing.

The sky was tortured ochre and hot chrome pink. Winds shuddered and

died as the local weather systems were disrupted by the upheaval. Hot

rain fell from the deranged December air. The mountain burned from within,

sending great pillars of fire into the hellish night.

Ranma, Ryoga, and Hiro lay in the bottom of a muddy ditch.

Chapter Five

Ukyo was awake early as usual to open up shop for the breakfast crowd.

It was times like this that made her wish she could afford to hire some

help, real help, and sleep in for a change.

I think I'll close up for awhile after breakfast. This winter cold

snap has really got me feeling run down. Hope I'm not sick.

She yawned and tossed back her long mane of straight brown hair. The

floor was cold, and she decided that maybe today she wouldn't open for

breakfast. She steeled herself and continued on to the bathroom. Who was

she kidding? She couldn't afford an extra hand around the shop, much less

miss the business the breakfast rush provided. Konatsu simply wasn't up to

challenge, even if he meant well enough.

After a hot shower, she was feeling better. She went downstairs and

lit the gas griddles and turned on the little television she maintained

for her breakfast and lunch guests. The news was on first thing, one of

those early riser programs. Konatsu began cleaning the counter and the

tables. The kunoichi seemed unconcerned by the war.

The top story of course was the renewed fighting in Korea. Stock

footage was mixed with live via satellite as green and red streams of

tracer fire ripped across blackened hill tops. Bright explosions filled

the skies as jets went down in flames. Whole hillsides lit up bright as

day as artillery hammered UN positions.

She thought of Ranma in the middle of all that and fought back

hopeless tears. Finally she switched off the television, unable to bear

any more of it. The crystalline drops of sorrow hissed as they touched the

hot metal of the griddle.

Why did he have to go back there?! she railed in her mind. What

was so important that he would throw away his future for another chance to

get killed?

"What is it, Ukyo-sama?" Konatsu asked gently.

"It's nothing," she protested. "Don't worry about it."

The air raid siren sounded across Nerima.

"ENOUGH!!!!!" she screamed to the ceiling. Konatsu jumped in surprise.

"I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF THESE ATTACKS!!! JUST KILL US ALL IF THAT'S WHAT YOU

WANT, BUT DO IT NOW 'CAUSE I'VE HAD ENOUGH!!!"

She threw open the doors to Ucchan's and ran out into the snowy street.

Konatsu's cries were ignored as she stumbled in the snow. The hazy light of

dawn was in the east. Then to the west was a great light, like any sunrise

she had ever seen. She looked east and then west, and there were two suns

low in the sky. The second sun in the west faded away after a few moments,

leaving Ukyo with the feeling that she had been witness to something

terrible.

Akane couldn't sleep. The latest of a series of nightmares was still

fresh in her mind. Ranma was the featured player in every one of them. In

each grim tableau he was taken from her; sometimes snatched up by someone

she knew like Shampoo or Kodachi, sometimes by something dark and sinister

like a shadowy hand or by a dense bank of fog.

Around dawn she slipped out of her futon and stepped gingerly past

Yumiko. Perhaps a good jog in the cold would tire her enough to sleep and

clear her mind. She reminded herself that she didn't have that final exam

until that afternoon, so there was no harm in going out for awhile before

she tried to sleep again.

She changed into her sweats and stretched as best as she could before

daring the grey morning. As she opened the door she felt a wave of vertigo.

The sun was rising in the wrong place, she thought, catching

herself on the door knob before she fell. Every morning has the sun at

my back when I go out the door.

She turned around, and to the east was good old Sol rising above the

early morning haze of distant downtown Tokyo. She looked over her shoulder

to see the ersatz sun fade away over the horizon.

Only then did her mind register the distant howl of air raid sirens...

Epilogue

"Operation Chancellor was hailed as a major success by the military

analysts of the decade. The daring multinational special warfare strikes

against North Korea's warmaking and political apparatus were inarguably

responsible for ending the Second Korean War in the UN's favor. Though

casualties were terribly high, (in some cases 100 percent fatalities were

suffered by strike teams), each team was successful for its part of the

operation.

The catalyst of victory was provided by the unintentional detonation

of a North Korean nuclear warhead of approximately fifty kilotons nominal

yield over the North Korean third-echelon reserve positions north of the

DMZ. This nuclear weapon detonation was believed by North Korean commanders

to be a UN 'last hurrah,' as they were in fact routing the broken UN forces

twenty kilometers north of Taegu. Fearing additional nuclear strikes,

they held their positions; allowing the UN forces to rally and launch a

decisive counter-attack.

Pyongyang in the meantime was also under the belief that the weapon

was American in origin. The military Junta governing the communist state

immediately ordered a retaliatory strike against South Korea, allied naval

forces in the Sea of Japan, and against Japan itself. When they could not

contact any of their Strategic Rocket Forces, they quickly realized that

their regime had come to an end. Surrender to UN forces came by eight

o'clock local time.

It is not known what caused the No Dong-1 missile to stray off course.

One popular theory holds that the weapon was launched prematurely, before

the guidance system could be properly programmed. Another holds that the

missile was damaged during the Operation Chancellor strikes upon its

launch site.

The truth remains a closely guarded secret. In any case the outcome

of the event was more important than the details behind it. After forty

years the Korean peninsula was unified under democratic government, lending

a peace and stability unknown in the region for nearly a century."

-excerpts from "SpecWar's Final Gambit."

Henry Stockard, CDR, USNR (Ret). Naval

Institute Proceedings. Volume 122, Number 1121

U.S. Naval Institute Press. July 1996.

Akane walked down the stairs from her room, and proceeded to the

kitchen. Kasumi and Nodoka were busy baking Christmas cookies. The sweet

smell of cinnamon and ginger filled the kitchen, and made Akane feel warm

and loved just standing there.

"Hello, Akane," Nodoka said cheerfully. "Has Ranma arrived home yet?"

Akane's face clouded. "No, not yet. In fact I've called the base

several times and no one has been able to find him."

"That's odd," Kasumi said. "It's not like Ranma at all."

Akane nodded sadly. "The last time I've even heard from him was in

a letter he sent me. He said everything was fine, and that there would

be no problem with his discharge. He's supposed to be home by Christmas,

and it's Christmas Eve!"

"Have a little faith, Akane," Kasumi offered. She handed her sister

a cookie. "He'll be here."

"The war is over, dear," Nodoka declared. "It's been over for two

weeks. There's no reason to keep him for much longer, so don't worry!"

Akane smiled for them and left the kitchen. As she bit into the

cookie Kasumi have given her, she tried to imagine what was keeping

Ranma.

He's probably stuck in a mountain of paperwork. The Military has

so many men to process now that the war is over.

This last she learned while watching the news. American and South

Korean troops now occupied North Korea to maintain the peace and

supervise the dismantling of the war machine. Japan had withdrawn from

South Korea within two days of the surrender. The Diet had declared the

state of emergency suspended, and directed the JSDF to begin discharging

troops. The details of the end were still classified, but rumors of

commando raids against North Korean missile sites filtered even as far

as Nerima. The local press were already hailing them as heroes.

He might be busy. Still, it's no excuse for not calling me or

trying to get word. And that phone number for the barracks has been

totally useless!

She sighed and went into the living room. Her father and Genma were

enjoying a few glasses of beer and watching television. Their eternal

game of shogi was on hold for the moment. The sky was sunny and clear,

as it had since the day the war ended. The snow sparkled on the ground,

but a few more weeks of sun and it would surely be gone.

Nerima was unusually quiet for the afternoon. There was some concern

that the nuclear weapon that had ended the war would spread radioactive

contamination across Japan. More than a few people in the neighborhood

had stayed indoors out of such fears. Thus far any of the fallout generated

by the airburst had settled with the rains in North Korea. It was fitting

irony that North Korea should be poisoned with its own weapon.

Her father looked up from the TV. He saw that Ranma was still absent,

his face clouding for a moment with worry. He returned his attentions to

the TV, determined not to allow his worries get the best of him.

Akane sighed again. She didn't have much to do around the house. Her

friends were away on winter vacations or at home visiting with relatives.

She hadn't talked to Ukyo in weeks, which was saddening in the light

of their growing friendship, a friendship born of the war and out of

mutual concern for Ranma.

She decided to go out and walk around. She went upstairs to get

Nabiki to join her. Her older sister grabbed a jacket and boots and

followed her lead.

Together they crunched through the snow.

"Hey sis?" Nabiki asked suddenly.

"What is it?" Akane replied.

"Any plans for this summer?"

Akane thought a moment. "Well, not really. What do you mean?"

Nabiki gave her a sly smile and a wink. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I

was just hoping."

"Hoping for what?" Akane asked a little perturbed. Nabiki could

play such annoying head games with her.

"Oh, you know," Nabiki continued.

"Spit it out already!" Akane cried. She was notoriously short on

patience to begin with, and today her fuse was even shorter.

"It's so obvious!" Nabiki taunted. "Have you kissed him yet?"

"Well yeah but... Oh, Nabiki!" Akane fumed and blushed fiercely.

"Way to go, little sister! I had a hunch about you two all along,"

Nabiki said with a bemused chuckle.

"It's not funny!" Akane protested.

"Your reaction is!"

Akane's hand dipped low to grab a hunk of icy snow and form it

into a ball.

Nabiki scampered out of point blank range with a laugh.

"I think it's a good thing!" she said. "You suit each other; heck,

you can even wear each other's clothes!"

Akane wound up and delivered. The snowball smashed against a wall

behind Nabiki.

"Nice heat, but you've gotta work on that control, little sister,

or you'll never get out of the minors!"

Akane clenched her fists and fumed. She wasn't really mad at Nabiki,

but she wasn't going to tell her that.

"What's the matter, Akane?" Nabiki asked in a little more serious

tone. "We aren't kids anymore. It's time to take our places in this world.

Don't be afraid of sharing that place with someone you love, and certainly

don't feel ashamed."

"I'm not ashamed!" Akane returned. "This is new for me. I'm just a

little shy is all."

"That's better," Nabiki insisted. "From the way you two were always

hanging around each other when he came home from Korea I assume he knows

how you feel about him?"

Akane nodded shyly.

"Then what's the problem? Have you even talked about your future

together?"

"I tried to a little. I asked him if he wanted to come to college

with me in the fall and get away from the dojo. He told me in his last

letter that he was interested."

Nabiki rubbed her gloved hands together. "It's a start, I guess."

Ukyo was not more than a few houses away from them. She walked with

a heavy heart. Her head was cast to the dirty snow of the street. Her tears

might have frozen on her face if she had any left to cry.

I know that was you, Ran-chan. That light in the sky that ended the

war. I know that was you.

She was headed straight for the dojo. She had waited as long as she

could bear without telling Akane what she feared most. She had waited in

the hopes that somehow he had survived and was coming home again. After

two weeks without even a single word, she knew he was gone.

I should have done this sooner... In spite of all that's been

between us, you're my friend, Akane. I owe you an explanation. I owe it

to Ranma to tell you.

She bit back another round of sobs at the thought. She saw Akane and

Nabiki and wiped at her face to try and clean it up a bit. It would be hard

enough for them without having to see her like this.

Akane saw her and waved. Ukyo swallowed once and offered a passable

smile and wave.

"Ukyo!" Akane cried happily. "We haven't spoken in so long!"

"That's mostly my fault," Ukyo admitted.

"Are you coming over tonight?" Nabiki asked. "It's Christmas Eve,

and we're expecting our resident war hero to return soon. We hope, anyway."

Ukyo bit back another sob at the thought.

"Um, sure. If it's no trouble."

"Of course not!" Akane cried.

They walked for a few houses and talked about school. Akane would

pass her finals, and probably do okay on most of them. Nabiki had her

grades sewn up, but that in some respects had little to do with her

academic abilities. Ukyo offered them the fact that she was planning on

attending college in the fall.

"Oh, really? We're trying to get Ranma to do the same," Nabiki

returned.

Ukyo stopped in her tracks. Nabiki's last was just too much. Her

charade could go on no longer. She would have to tell Akane, and she

would have do tell her in front of Nabiki.

"Um, Akane? I need to tell you something."

Akane looked at her a little confused. Ukyo's tone wasn't in the

least bit comforting.

"What is it?"

"I received a letter from Ran-chan a couple of weeks ago," she began.

"So did I," Akane added.

"Well... This is about Ranma. He told me something in his letter

that he didn't want you to know..." She didn't know how she was going

to say this.

"What is it?" Akane asked, concern cracking her voice.

Ukyo drew a pattern in the snow with her boot. "I don't know how to

tell you this Akane. I want to, but I can't..." Her voice trailed off

into very soft weeping.

What was concern darkening the lovely lines of Akane's eyes was now

abject horror.

"He didn't..." Akane managed. Somehow she had suspected all along.

"...He didn't want you to worry about him, so he didn't tell you..."

Ukyo wept. "He said it was important, or he wouldn't have done it."

"No..." Akane barely breathed. "No..."

"...I'm sorry... Akane, I didn't say anything until now because I

still had hope... But now..."

"NO!" Akane cried. "I refuse to believe it!" Tears began to well

at the corners of her eyes in spite of her protest.

She ran off down the street. Ukyo collapsed to the snowy street,

wracked with sobs. Nabiki was torn between chasing after Akane and

comforting Ukyo. She stayed with Ukyo and whispered soothing words

even as her own tears spilled down her face.

"...He did it for us... For all of us... That light in the sky was

him," Ukyo whispered.

"He was a hero," Nabiki offered, silently wincing at how hollow that

word sounded then.

"I loved him," Ukyo cried softly.

"We all loved him," Nabiki answered.

Akane didn't stop running until she slipped on the ice and fell.

Then the floodgates opened and she cried there in the middle of the

snowy street. She didn't care who might see her.

She cried silently, trying to hold it in. She still wanted to believe

that Ranma was alive and well, that Ukyo was jumping to conclusions,

anything that would bring him home to her.

WHY?! she screamed in her mind. Why would you go back there?

You can never turn your back on a fight, even if it isn't yours. Damn

you!!! I should hate you for this!

She didn't know why, but she looked up from her hands to see a

little black pig sitting there on the snowy pavement with her.

"P-chan!" she cried, scooping him up with both hands and crushing

him in her teary embrace. She wept anew. "Oh, P-chan...! You don't know

how much I need this..."

"Ryoga!?" a voice cried. It was a little familiar, but she didn't

know from where.

Ryoga? she thought suddenly. He could tell me what happened.

She tried to compose herself and stood.

"Ryoga! Where the hell are you?" the voice cried, a little closer.

Akane walked to the corner of two walls and the direction of the

voice. She ran right into a man who was running around the corner.

Both were knocked to the ground.

"Oh jeez! I'm sorry!" the man pleaded. "I didn't know you were

there."

Akane looked at him sitting there across from her. He wore the dress

uniform of the JGSDF, bearing the rank of private. The name "Ohata" was

stitched across his right breast.

"Hiro?" Akane cried in shock.

"Akane?" Hiro cried in return.

Ranma Saotome skidded to a stop then behind Hiro. His dress uniform

gleamed in the reflected light of the snow. He was alive and whole. He

had the most unusual tan for the middle of winter, but he was the most

beautiful sight Akane had ever seen.

Hiro noticed P-chan sitting in Akane's lap. The poor pig had taken

the brunt of the impact, and was a little dazed.

"Ah, Ry---"

He didn't get a chance to finish because Ranma clamped one hand over

Hiro's mouth even as he helped Akane to her feet with the other.

Akane threw her arms around him and held him with all her might.

Ranma returned her embrace with equal vigor and affection. Hiro was sure

he heard their backbones popping.

Just as suddenly as she had taken him up into her embrace, she threw

him off and clobbered him with a right cross hauled back from somewhere

in the vicinity of Mars.

"YOU BASTARD!!!" she screamed.

Ranma spun around like a top before falling over onto the ground.

His face was a mask frozen in utter surprise.

"Huh?" he managed. "Now what?"

"How could you go back to Korea and risk your life again?!" Akane

demanded. Her body trembled with both rage and the overwhelming joy of

seeing him alive and well.

"Huh?" he tried again. He looked to Hiro for a clue as to what was

going on.

Hiro looked at the two. "Don't look at me, man, I'm just as confused

as you are."

Akane threw Hiro into the air to land across the street. She spun on

her heels to face Ranma again.

"This is twice that you've had me thinking I'd lost you! How dare

you?!"

Ranma had no idea what to tell her. She was absolutely right in some

respects, but he also knew he had done the right thing. The exploding nuke

had proven that beyond a shadow of doubt.

Akane went on venting. "You could have at least told me what you were

doing! At least some explanation why you're home without so much as a phone

call or letter to me!"

For that he had an answer.

"Jeez, Akane, it's all classified. They didn't even let us go after

the mission debrief. We've been sequestered for almost two weeks now."

This softened her a little bit.

"I wanted to tell you," Ranma said, realizing that she was at least

listening to him. "I really wanted to, but this was supposed to be a secret.

I also didn't think you'd understand--"

"What's there to understand?" Akane bellowed. "That the one man I love

more than anyone in the world had decided to go back and get himself killed

without so much as a good-bye?! That he walked away from a chance at a life

and ran back into a war when he'd already done his part?! What's there to

understand? It's all so clear!"

Ranma was starting to get angry. Getting belted by her was nothing new,

but this was getting out of hand. It took great force of will to let it

pass.

"I'm sorry Akane..." he offered her. "I was wrong. I don't know if

you'll ever understand, but someday I'll explain everything." He looked

away. "That is, if you can forgive me."

She was silent. She wanted to wring his neck and hold him in a loving

embrace at the same time. Ranma wasn't sure what she was thinking by her

stern and tear-streaked face.

Ranma turned to go. "Just give me a chance Akane... But I'll go now if

you don't want me around."

She reached out and grabbed his arm, throwing him to the ground with

a great cry.

"RANMA, YOU ARE SUCH A JERK!!!"

He looked up at her dumbfounded.

She pounced upon him.

"Do you actually believe that I would let you get out of my sight

again?" she cried.

"I guess not," Ranma replied.

"You're damn right I won't!" she cried. She embraced him fiercely.

He returned her embrace, feeling her sob again quietly in his arms.

"I love you, Akane."

She brushed her lips against his cheek. "I love you too, you jerk."

Hiro Ohata looked on from the safety of the other side of the street.

"Who would have thought love was a contact sport?" he asked himself.

"What's going on?" Nabiki cried. She had Ukyo in tow. The two of them

gasped at the sight.

"Ranma-honey!" Ukyo cried in disbelief.

The two women ran over to Ranma and Akane, who welcomed them into a

group hug. Nabiki and Ukyo each kissed Ranma's cheek, and all three women

were gathered up into Ranma's arms as he stood.

Ukyo brushed away the dried tears from her eyes. "You have a lot of

explaining to do, buster!" she teased gently.

"Tell me about it," Ranma replied.

They started back towards the dojo.

Hiro gathered up P-chan, who had a tiny tear in each eye as he watched

Ranma and Akane walk away hand in hand.

"Come on, Ryoga, let's go find some hot water and get you back into

your uniform. Today's the last day we'll have to wear it." he said quietly,

and headed back to the puddle of water where their chase had started.

I guess you weren't kidding when you said you heard Akane crying,

Hiro thought as he looked down at the little black pig. Too bad you didn't

look where you were going.

Ex-Private Hiro Ohata walked on down the street, moving further and

further from the others.

He looked down at P-chan again.

"We're out of a job today, Ryoga. Now what the hell are we gonna do?"

P-Chan grunted something.

"I guess you're right," Hiro said. "Maybe I should put my professional

race car driver ambitions away for awhile and go to college."

He thought about this for a few moments as he retraced their steps.

"Nah..."

THE END

Author's Notes:

1) Of course in this revision of "Once More Into the Breach," I can plug

the "Chasing the Wind" story arc that follows the "War" stories. CTW will

be revised as well.

2) The Patriot missile isn't quite as good as it's cracked up to be. It

usually took an average of four Patriots to destroy a Scud missile during

the Gulf War. This was due to its small warhead. The Patriot had no problem

getting to the target, it just didn't carry a big enough blast to do the

job. An improved model (known as the PAC-3)is supposed to be in the works.

A kinetic kill missile known as THAAD has thus far been a miserable failure

during tests.

3) I couldn't tell you how Japanese soldiers live. My depictions of barracks

life are in every way, shape, and form based upon my own experiences. So is

my depiction of the transient duties Ranma, Ryoga, and Hiro carry out.

4) The method used to insert the Japanese Operation Chancellor team is

actually used. It hearkens back to the days of the commando raids in W.W.II

which were conducted by the diesel boats of that era. (DBF!) I've seen it

through the periscope camera, and it's not a pretty sight.

Free The Nukes!


End file.
